


Scenes, Scenarios, and Situations

by orphan_account



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, Bullying, Fluff, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self Esteem Issues, Teacher-Student Relationship, body issues, misadventures at yoga studios
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-16 21:38:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 31,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5841916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A compilation of various Hiddlesworth stories I've written and posted on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

This post will be for the stories I've written and posted on Tumblr. I will be continuing to update as I see fit. Each story work will have additional warnings, tags, and summaries. So enjoy! Let me know what you think. If you'd like to see me write something, you can send me a prompt on Tumblr. For now I'll leave you a list of fics here and update this title page each time I add something.

 

1\. To Be With You is to Love You -- highschool au

2\. Read Between the Lines -- reclusive writer!Tom and new neighbour surfer!Chris

3\. Campus Activities -- college au

4\. The Extra Mile -- gym enthusiast!Chris and self conscious client!Tom

5\. Starting Position -- yoga instructor!Tom and student!Chris

6\. Waiting at Your Door -- werewolf!Chris and helpful human!Tom

7\. Crawling at Your Door -- Snow White/Goldilocks au with huntsman/daddy bear!Chris and Snow White/Goldilocks!Tom

8\. The Weight of Words -- death and rebirth au

9\. Internal Introspection of the Sexual Nature -- university professor!Tom and student!Chris

10\. Simple Ambitions -- Knight!Chris and Peasant!Tom

11\. Smooth to the Touch -- Tom gets a rash au

12\. The Weary Soul -- soldier!Tom and librarian!Chris


	2. To Be With You is to Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Hiddlesworth prompt: highschool!au where tom gets bullied for being gay and chris protects him?

High school has been said to the best four years of anyone’s life, but Tom would politely disagree. During the first few weeks of grade nine, he hung out with friends from his grade school and stuck close to people he knew. But eventually those people drifted off and made new friends, joining new social groups until Tom was more or less alone. It wasn’t that he didn’t try to socialize. He did. Valiantly so, but he had trouble fitting in with the others. They thought he was too weird or too quiet or just not what they were looking for in a friend.

It was a dog-eat-dog world out there, and Tom found it difficult to connect to those around him. So eventually he gave up trying.

Because he had troubles connecting to the other students, the Student Services sector of the office to meet up once a week with other kids who were deemed at risk youth for having trouble with socializing with other students. There they would gather during the period after lunch and discuss issues they were having at school with others and the methodological thinking behind problem solving. Tom didn’t participate much and simply stayed quiet. He didn’t find the methods to be helpful.

At lunch Tom would hide away in the library. There he did homework on the computers or found a book to read. Normally food and drinks weren’t allowed in, but Tom was special. He was quiet and cleaned up after himself, so the librarian let him get away with it.

Life in high school decreased sharply again when second semester started up, and Physical Education was part of Tom’s schedule. He was a lanky kid with long legs and strong lungs for running. He enjoyed playing soccer when he was a kid during the summer, but now he wasn’t so sure he would enjoy this. The boys here were starting to come into their own. They were rougher with each other than in grade school, and Tom found himself quite intimidated. He often changed in the toilet stalls because that’s where he felt safest. He endured the gym classes and kept his head down so he wouldn’t be noticed, but what’s worst of all was when he started noticing something.

There was this one boy in his class that he couldn’t help but admire from afar. He was a tall boy with dirty blond hair and a wide set of shoulders. His smile was wide. His eyes were blue. He was also the nicest person Tom had ever met. In the few encounters they had, Tom had always been left with a fluttering feeling in his stomach. When they played basketball during the period, Tom would always watch mesmerized as Chris ran across the court with ease. He was such a natural at sports. Tom often found himself smiling when Chris paid the smallest amount of attention towards him.

It was that year in grade nine that Tom found out he was gay.

* * *

He spent a quiet summer biking around the neighbourhood and watching movies and reading books and helping his mom with the groceries. It was a quiet relaxing summer while Tom fought with himself and what he knew to be true about himself. He liked guys. There he said it. Then why was it so difficult to just accept that as a simple truth? Did fate decide he didn’t have enough issues to deal with? On top of the anxiety and social awkwardness? No, apparently he had to be gay.

It was with a tearful admittance that he finally came out to his parents. They saw his pain and immediately soothed him. They didn’t hate him. They loved him and would do anything to help him feel comfortable with himself. He doubted he ever would be, but it was a great relief that his parents wouldn’t kick him out or deny his sexuality. At least his home was still his haven.

Grade ten rolled around and Tom still visited the Student Service session for at risk youth and still took his lunch in the library and still watched Chris from afar. He got good grades. He was polite to his teaches and stayed out of trouble. But after the first month of school, rumors began to circulate.

See, Tom was quiet with few people who would call him a friend. It was easy to go after a target like him who probably wouldn’t be able to defend himself. Some of the larger students with a more physically dominating personality spread the crudest lies because they had the most power in this place.

“I heard he’s gay.”

“Have you seen the way he looks at other boys?”

“I heard he hides in the boys’ change room and watches them change before gym class.”

“Pervert.”

“Fag.”

The list went on and continued to chip away at Tom’s resolve and his self-esteem. The insults drove him to tears several times, and a few times he hid in the boys’ bathroom to calm himself.

His parents knew about his troubles in high school. Student Services kept them updated and tried to open a communication channel between him and a school counsellor. Needless to say, the counsellor’s methods didn’t do anything to alieve him of any anxieties he had about school. He contemplated faking sick several times, and his mom believed him what with the colder fall weather. His reluctance of high school prompted further discussions of what they should do to help Tom flourish. Should they let him do his schoolwork at home? Should they look into homeschooling? A tutor? Switch high schools? The decision would be made soon once the first semester was finishing up. But before that could happen, something happened that changed Tom’s mind on the school.

It was during one of the more physical interactions he had with some of his bullies. They were in the same grade as him but had hit puberty rather early and were, therefore, a bit bigger than him. With their muscled shoulders and deeper voices, they were terrifying in Tom’s mind. They caught him at his locker, switching out books when the lunch period had just begun.

“Hey, Tommy boy!” one of the goons said in a loud and deep voice. “Heard you were creeping after Michael in the library today. Peeking at him in his girlfriend in a different aisle.”

Tom shook his head minutely, a very subtle shake of the head. Michael and his girlfriend were in the library during lunch, but Tom kept his nose buried in a book. Safer that way. Usually.

“You’re a little pervert, aren’t you?” Goon Number Two said. “Like watching people when they don’t know you’re there?”

“Yeah,” Goon Three joined in. “Bet he jerks off to what he’s seen when he’s alone.”

“You jerk off to watching us change, Tommy boy?” Goon One asked, steeping closer to Tom and forcing him to back up a step in return.

“No,” Tom said quietly. He hated this. He hated how weak he was before them.

“What was that? What’d you say, Tommy boy?”

Tom kept his lips shut tight. Maybe these guys would get bored with him and move on. Like playing possum. Just stay still enough and the predator will get bored.

Only these guys didn’t. They wanted a reaction. They wanted to see him cry.

“What were you going to say, Tommy boy? Are you going to cry?” He lightly pushed Tom by his shoulders. “Gonna cry for us, faggot?” Another shove. Another slur. Tom felt his emotions start to bubble up. He felt so helpless. He just wanted to be left alone. Why did they have to go after him? What did he do to them to deserve this?

Before his tears fell down his cheeks, another person entered the scene.

“Hey! What are you guys doing over here?”

Tom looked up briefly and saw that it was Chris. Chris whose brow was wrinkled in anger and mouth set in a grim, determined line. He was bigger than these Goons. Much more intimidating. And he was standing up for Tom. He placed himself between the bullies and Tom and created a barrier with his body.

“Get out of here, and don’t let me catch you bullying him again, or I’ll take it up with the coach.”

“Ohhh, I’m _so_ scared of Hemsworth tattle telling.” The Goons snickered.

“Yeah, well you should be since this incident will probably get you kicked off any sports team for the rest of the year. So get out of here.”

That certainly cowed the Goons, and they all left without a word. The knot in Tm’s chest somewhat loosed until Chris turned to face him, a look of concern across his face.

“Are you all right?”

“I-I-I. I need to go.” Tom slammed his locker shut and had plans to leave. To be anywhere but here.

“Here, come with me. I know a quiet place we can go to.”

Tom could only nod and followed Chris through the halls to the other side of school which was usually empty during the lunch period. Chris led him into a bathroom and said that they would be alone here. “People rarely go in here,” he said. “So just take it easy and relax.”

With Chris somewhat standing guard, Tom splashed some cold water on his face to calm himself. He realized that this would be the first time they would alone together for a rather extended period of time. Suddenly the butterflies awoke in Tom’s stomach.

“Thank you,” he said in his quiet and thin voice. “You didn’t have to.”

“Hm?” Chris straightened from where he leaned against the wall next to the door. “Of course I did. No one deserves having such lies spread about them. I’ve been trying to stop people from spreading rumors around about you. Guess I didn’t reach everyone in time.”

It certainly wasn’t what Tom was expecting to hear. Why would Chris do this? They knew nothing of each other. They were barely on a first name basis.

“Why did you do that? We don’t know anything about each other. We don’t even speak to each other.”

“Like I said,” Chris insisted. “You don’t deserve what’s being done to you. Kids are just dumb some times. They see an easy target and they decide to start having cruel fun with them. And it’s not nice. Besides, you seem like a good guy. I bet it isn’t nice hearing someone call you names like they did.”

Tom lowered his gaze. He was embarrassed to feel tears well up again. He heard Chris walk forward a few steps.

“If you want, I can help you out with the bullies. I can keep them off your back.”

Tom shook his head. “I’ve had offers before in exchange for me doing their homework. I’d rather take my chances.”

Chris frowned and shook his head. “I won’t do that. I won’t, Tom. I mean it when I say I want to help you.”

“But why?” Tom asked, throat closing up as it always did when he was stressed.

“Because I … I like you, okay? Remember when we had gym class last year? Sometimes I would see you smiling at me. Sometimes I would smile back. I like it when you smile. And I have been meaning to talk to you, but I was just too scared to talk to you. I thought you might run away at the sight of me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Look at me. I’m like twice the size of everyone else in the school. You wouldn’t be the first one to run away from me.”

“Oh.”

Even if they rarely spoke to one another, Tom could see their similarities. Tom with his shy personality and Chris with his possibly too easy going attitude. Both on different ends of the spectrum and yet isolated in their own respects.

“Sometimes I went looking for you,” Chris said. “But I couldn’t find you.”

“I eat lunch in the library,” Tom admitted. He smiled when Chris did.

“How’d you manage that? I though Mr. Taylor was a stickler for the whole no food policy.”

“Well, I’m just special that way I guess.”

“You’ll have to show me how you do it.”

“Maybe one day.”

“Do you want to go have lunch now? My treat.”

“Oh.” It was all a bit sudden for Tom. But the butterflies spread their wings and fluttered together in a strong chorus. “I guess. But . . . can we eat outside? Somewhere quiet?”

“Sure. I’ll buy and you show me where to go. Sound like a plan?”

Tom nodded and followed Chris out of the bathroom. As they walked to the cafeteria, they exchanged pleasantries on the way.

“The name’s Chris by the way. Chris Hemsworth.”

“Tom Hiddleston.”

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Tom.”

“Uh, yeah. Same.”

Chris grinned and bought them some food, and Tom led him out to a quiet area near the fields. There they had their lunch together and started talking, and it was the easiest thing Tom had ever done in his life. His social anxiety, at that moment, did not exist. It was a huge relief, and for the first time, Tom actively participated in the meetings with the other at risk youths. His counselor was proud of his achievement.

There was a doubt in the back of his mind that kept him up late at night. Was Chris being truthful when he said he liked Tom? Or was this just some elaborate prank? But Chris was nothing but a genuinely kind soul who wanted nothing more than to be his friend.

Their friendship evolved and grew over the year. Tom slowly became more outgoing and opening up to those around him. He sometimes went to Chris’s basketball games and quietly cheered him on. Sometimes they snuck into the library at lunch and at quietly together in the very back where the librarian Mr. Taylor wouldn’t be able to see them.

The bullying and the rumors stopped by second semester, and Tom was no longer bothered by anyone who wished to be cruel to him. Chris allowed him to discover a part of himself that he thought he’d lost. He could be happy. He could be carefree and easy going. He could be lovely and friendly. He could open himself up.

And he showed to Chris that he wasn’t as terrifying as he thought he was. More of a gentle giant really. A giant teddy bear in disguise.

By grade eleven, they were known as the cute couple. The one people would coo at from and ask if they were together officially. Chris and Tom ignored everyone else, simply content to be with one another.

By grade twelve, they had both come into their own, finally nearing the end of their growth spurts and being much more comfortable and confident with whom they were. Chris asked Tom to go to final prom with him, and Tom enthusiastically said yes. They danced the night away with people they could both finally call their friends.

And under the stars that night at the after prom party, they held one another and were able to smile freely. They had made it. Against all odds they had made it through the hell that was high school. And they would continue to support each other as long as they could be together.

“Can I ask you something?” Chris asked as he held Tom close against his chest.

“Of course. What is it?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, please.”

Chris licked his lower lip before cupping Tom’s cheek and bending his head a little and pressing their lips together. Tom gripped one of Chris’s biceps and moaned, butterflies stirring from their slumber and rising up once more. They parted all too soon in Tom’s opinion, so he cupped the back of Chris’s head and brought him down for another one. And another. And another. Until they had no breath left and was sure that their hearts would burst with affection.


	3. Read Between the Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From fourletterwordsstartingwithl: Hiddlesworth prompt: Tom lives in a small seaside town. Chris is his sexy new neighbour. Chris thinks his neighbour is the hottest man he's ever seen & may or may not find excessive excuses to knock on his door ('can I borrow a cup of sugar?' etc). Tom is equally infatuated & knows for a fact Chris just bought sugar because he watched Chris unload groceries yesterday while secretly watching from his spot behind the blinds. =^_^=

 

Port Dover is the type of place that is labelled as quaint and charming by any outsiders and passing-by tourists. The buildings have the rustic charm of the 1950s that appeals to the nostalgic people. Mostly seniors who grew up with this town, but the summer draws young adults and teens, craving a small piece of paradise with clear blue waters and perfect surfing waves.

Tom is not one for spending time in the sun and chasing waves. His fair skin makes it sure that if he spends too much time outside having fun, he’ll be red as a tomato for weeks to come. And he just doesn’t have the body or the experience to become a surfing legend.

No. Tom is not part of the usual crowd who comes to Port Dover. He’s not even part of the crowd who owns summer cottages here. He just happens to like it because it’s a great location for him to buckle down and write. He’s a bit of a recluse in the writing and real world, but Port Dover is the best place for him to write. His house is located far enough away from the bustling beaches for him to get enough work done.

He lives not in the cottage part of the town but the residential area where the people live here year round. His neighbours are mostly retired seniors. The men, who can, mow the lawn and tinker with their pet project cars. The women put on their sun visors and weed in the gardens, coaxing forth beautiful arrangements of flower blooms.

Some of his neighbours see him as a surrogate son. He’s invited to have dinners so he doesn’t have to cook. He’s given some gifts here and there to light up his house and make him feel welcomed in the community even though he moved here two years ago. But it’s fine. They all understand that he needs his privacy and respect his boundaries. No one comes into the house without his permission.

The neighbourhood never changes. The rowdy kids of the beaches never come up this far, and the barbeques his neighbours host for their families are usually brief and fairly quiet. So it’s a good place for him to be and write his books.

But then things begin to change. Mr. and Mrs. Gable put their house up for sale. According to Meryl Gladwell, they’re moving across the ocean to a villa they just purchased. They wish to do more travelling while they still can. Tom is mostly unconcerned. The changes here are never drastic. Tom expects another elderly couple to move in some time soon. It’s a scenic place, high up on the ridge that Port Dover is located on.

It’s two months after the Gables move out that Tom’s new neighbour moves in. He’s sitting in the window seat in his living room where he usually edits his hardcopies. He sees the white and orange moving van park in the driveway next door. He looks over because he’s curious in meeting his new neighbours.

He sees some burly moving men wearing company shirts. They empty the van and carry in the furniture that seems a little more modern than he’s used to seeing with his elderly neighbours. No sign of the home owners yet.

Then a new comer comes on the scene. Long, sun bleached hair pulled back into a bun. Wide, strong shoulders and arms. Lean, trim waist, and a casual sense of dress. The man has a swimmers body. He’s not wearing a uniform, so Tom wonders if he’s like a son or some other relative.

The man goes into the house, and Tom goes back to his editing. He gets back into it and puts the man with the golden hair and wide smile. A part of his mind creates scenarios of the man. About his wide hands and probably tight, rough grip. How the bruises would appear on his lover’s skin from the rough night of sex that would turn into gentle caresses the next morning. For another book, perhaps. Right now he needs to focus.

* * *

Meryl Gladwell approaches Tom one day when he’s carrying groceries into his house. “Oh, Tom!” she says, wearing a large sunhat and capris.

“Hello, Meryl,” he says, stopping for a moment by his car. “How are you?”

“Oh, just fine. Just fine indeed. Have you met your new neighbour yet?”

Tom shakes his head. “Haven’t had the chance, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, too busy writing your latest novel?”

 _More like fantasizing about the gorgeous blond Apollo and all the ways I can write about him,_ but he doesn’t say this, of course. He simply replies, “Yes. I’m almost done my latest draft, so I’ve had little time in meeting anyone new.”

“That’s a shame. You should meet him! He’s a wonderful man. And around your age so you won’t have to be surrounded by all us grumps and biddies all day long. You should come over tonight!” she says, smiling wide. “Chris, your new neighbour dear, will be joining us. That way the both of you can meet!”

Tom is not one for dinner parties with a stranger. Reclusive writer, remember? So he politely declines and says he really must get back to work. “You know with deadlines and all. Maybe next time.”

He finishes carrying in his groceries and gets dinner ready. He’s going to be in for a long night of revising.

* * *

Chris, while still new to the neighbourhood and the town, has discovered two things about his new neighbour. One: he’s known as a reclusive writer. Doesn’t go out much. Doesn’t say much. Overall a quiet guy. And two: he’s easily the most beautiful person Chris has ever seen. He has a runner’s body: long, lean legs; strong chest; with a beautifully angled face and golden hair that shines so gloriously in the sun.

He’s beautiful and Chris wants to get to know him. Along with a lot of other things.

In his new neighbourhood, he’s the new talk amongst the retirees of the area. Some visit him, invite him for dinner. He’s flattered, but not once is he approached by the one neighbour he wishes to meet.

“He’s a bit quiet,” Meryl, one of his new neighbours, says one day. “I just think he’s a bit shy, but he’ll come around. He’s quite a nice young man once you get to know him.”

“I’m sure he is,” Chris replies, looking wistfully over at the house next door.

Eventually he learns that his neighbour’s name is Tom and that he likes to write. He’s a published author and Chris may have looked him up on the internet. Just out of curiosity, nothing else really.

Tom is a quiet person. He seems to be the only one who frequents his house. He rarely steps out, and Chris begins to wonder if he’ll ever see Tom about. But one day he does. Tom, as Chris predicted, likes to jog every now and then. Always in the early evening when the heat and sun are less intense. He runs for forty-five minutes four or five times a week. He returns huffing and sweaty and _god_ Chris wants to lick a path up the side of his neck and taste him.

But that is not a proper greeting. Seeing as Tom won’t be the one to make introductions, it looks like Chris will have to kick things off.

He heads over to Tom’s house with an idea in mind. He knocks on the door, rapping three times and waiting. The door opens and there is the reclusive writer. Chris puts on his friendliest smile and introduces himself.

“Hi! I’m Chris, your neighbour.”

“Oh,” Tom says. “Yes, hello. I’m Tom.” They shake hands, and Chris enjoys how smooth Tom’s is. “Welcome to the neighbourhood.”

“Thanks. It’s nice. Quiet. I like it. Look, seeing as I’m new here, I was wondering if you could tell me where the post office is in this town. I haven’t been able to find it yet, and I need to see if anything has been forwarded to me yet.”

“Ah, right.” And Tom gives him the directions, Chris nodding along even though he already knows where the office is. But he likes the richness of Tom’s voice, how low and even it is. How smooth and strong. What he would give to hear it stutter.

“Well, thanks. I guess I’ll see you around,” Chris says, turning to leave and return to his own house.

“Yes, goodbye. And if you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“I’ll remember that. Thanks!”

Tom retreats and closes the door. However brief their first conversation was, Chris has the invitation to come over again if he needs to. And he imagines he’ll be needing a lot of _help_ in the future.

* * *

It’s interesting how they never seem to properly meet each other. They see each other getting out of their cars, taking a walk down the street, doing yard work. They say hello, comment on the mundane, and then off they go to return to their work. It’s tedious and slow and Tom has never masturbated so much in his entire life. Oh, what he would give just to have Chris in his bed for one night!

And so begins the excuses just to see each other. Because they don’t run social circles, it’s hard to see the other naturally in public. Tom hates going to the beach because it’s crowded, and Chris lives for the beach (Tom discovered that his neighbour was the penultimate surfer of the area and also a lifeguard). Plus there’s nothing that actually brings them together other than their mutual physical attraction (he sees the way Chris eyes him; he’s not _that_ out of it). It’s a difficult thing to approach someone else you know barely anything about.

Chris is the one to start it off. He comes to Tom’s door, knocks on it three times, and says, “Hi! Could I borrow your lawn mower? I haven’t had the time to invest in one yet what with the new job and unpacking.”

“Oh.”

Chris rubs the back of his neck, offering Tom a wonderful view of a flexing bicep. “Yeah. It’s just that I don’t want my lawn to become so wild. Especially in this neighbourhood. Think of my reputation.”

Tom laughs and nods. “Of course. Follow me.”

He leads Chris to his garage and shows him how to work his push mower.

“I’ll promise to bring it back in perfect condition,” Chris says, smiling so dazzling that Tom fears he’ll lose his eyesight. “Full tank of gas and everything.”

Tom grins and sees Chris off to mow his lawn. He returns to his office and can’t help but stare outside the window every time Chris passes by. He’s wearing a loose tank top that shows off his arms really well. Sometimes he takes one hand off the mower and pulls up his top to wipe at his forehead, giving Tom an unabashed look at his abdomen. Oh, yeah. He’s definitely going to be made into a charismatic character in his next novel.

* * *

It continues on from there.

“Do you have the phone directory for this town?”

“I think I got some of your mail by mistake.”

“Meryl gave me some of her apple pie, and I couldn’t just have it all to myself. Would you like a slice or two?”

And so on. They begin to become more and more absurd as Chris runs out of any plausible reasons to knock on Tom’s door. Tom is considering to pitch in and head over to his house with his own excuses just so they can see each other on a semi-regular basis.

When they aren’t pestering each other for mundane items, Tom is quietly taking in his fill of Chris puttering around his house. His usual window office seat gives him a direct view into Chris’s house. The man usually leaves his windows open with his blinds up. He likes the sun and wind, clearly. Not at all bothered by the heat and humidity unlike Tom who lives with the AC on full blast.

With his latest manuscript off to the editors, Tom has a bit of free time on his hands. He’s in the final steps for another publication, so he’s starting another draft for a different story. A love story, perhaps. Featuring big, burly blonds. God. Where is his mind headed these days?

He gets a bit of work done during the afternoon, but his musings are cut short when he sees Chris has pulled into his driveway. Through the narrow slits of his blinds—because he’s not a creeper who watches his hot neighbour, he’s _not—_ he sees Chris get out of his car and go to the trunk. Groceries, then. One of the bags has spilled over during the drive, showing Chris’s recent purchases. Flour, baking powder, a bottle of what appears to be vanilla extract, and sugar. Baking items. He idly wonders what Chris will be up to this weekend.

He muses over his potential plot a bit more before he saves everything and goes down to make some dinner. He debates going for a walk down the boardwalk tonight when the sun has set and the rowdy youngsters have moved off. He feels like he’s been cooped up for too long.

He’s just about to step out and go on his walk when Chris knocks on his door. He knows it’s Chris immediately because Tom may or may not have memorized the way he knocks. Three sturdy taps that emanate confidence and just a hint of strength.

He opens the door and finds Chris standing on his porch with his hands held before him.

“Hello, neighbour,” Chris says, smiling as he always is.

“Hello, neighbour,” Tom repeats, because he enjoys this banter they have. The whole notion of wanting to speak to the other but not knowing how to start it off is perfect for a scenario of unresolved sexual tension. He wonders if he should just cross the bridge for the both of them.

“I hate to bother you like this, but I was in the middle of a baking project—my brother and his family are coming down this weekend—and I realized that I don’t have any sugar. You wouldn’t happen to have any, would you? Just a bit you could spare?”

Oh, this is interesting. Now he has caught Chris in the lie and Chris doesn’t even know it. Should he play along and just give Chris the sugar? Invite him into his house as he rummages around and continuously bends over to check the lower cupboards? Or should he just admit to Chris that he saw he had bought some already and just put an end to this whole charade?

Tom smiles and jerks his head towards his kitchen. “Follow me. And I’ll make sure you get some … sugar.”

Chris licks his lips. Tom hopes he gets the message.

The door closes, and Chris follows Tom into the kitchen.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asks, turning to the fridge and bending to look inside.

“Um, sure, I guess,” Chris replies.

He serves Chris and watches the man take a drink, throat working as it sparks a burst of heat in Tom’s abdomen.

“You can put off the act,” Tom says.

Chris raises his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“I know you don’t need any sugar. I’ve been, um, watching you.”

Chris looks a bit shy and glad at the news. “Really?” he says.

“Yes. I’ve had my eyes on you since you moved in. I’m a bit ashamed to admit that I would, um, watch you from my window.”

Chris’s smile widens. “Yeah, well, try having to come up with constant excuses just to come over and see you.”

Tom laughs. “By the end, I could see how desperate you were.”

“Wouldn’t say desperate. Just running low on creative ideas.”

Tom takes another long sip of his drink, keeping his eyes on Chris as the other watched him swallow and lick his lips afterwards. “I think we should start this whole thing over. My name is Tom.”

“Chris.”

“What brings you here today, Chris? Surely it can’t be that cup of sugar.”

They take small steps towards each other, closing the distance between them.

“Well, I’m here to ask if you’d like to have dinner with me some time. Just the two of us.”

Tom sets down his drink and surges forward. He wraps his hands around Chris, the other only hesitating a second before he reciprocates. They kiss, heavy and desperate and _finally._ Chris’s lips are rough and full. Tom moans into the kiss when he feels Chris’s tongue swipe his lips.

They break apart but continue to hold each other.

“Why, Chris,” Tom says, grinning fully. “I’d be delighted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like to see me write something specific, send me a a prompt on [tumblr](http://mjolnir-s-master.tumblr.com/)


	4. Campus Activities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “My stupid friends roped me into a mall scavenger hunt and you’re on the list” AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those of you who have sent me prompts, I am working on them and will post them eventually. Thanks for reaching out!

Tom learned that the further into his university career, the more daring and inclusive he became. He was known to be outgoing and charming, social and engaging. He also liked to be part of weird campus activities.

During a mid-afternoon study break with some friends of his, the idea of a campus wide scavenger hunt came up for a bit of fun and a chance to get away from the books. So the rules were drawn up on a piece of lined paper: no items that were difficult or life threatening to obtain; nothing illegal; there would be a list of ten items to obtain; participants had twelve hours to win the hunt; first place received a free lunch that was pitched in by the other players; the lists of items would all include items of equal value. The date was set. The terms were agreed upon. The game was now afoot.

Tom was given his list via email one day before the hunt was scheduled.

_A signature from Dr. Ted Haverford.  
A prop from the drama department.  
A musical reed of any instrument.  
An oak leaf _(there was only one oak tree on the entire campus, so it would probably take a while to get that one)  
 _A picture of you drinking something from Campus Bubble  
A shoelace from a sports team member  
The fifth word from the fifth page of _The Encyclopedia of Egypt (1985)  
 _A piece of lego_  
A screw  
Chris Hemsworth

All of the items were obtainable, but the last one made him pause. Chris Hemsworth. Who the hell was Chris Hemsworth? So far, Tom had never met anyone by that name. So he did the most sensible thing and searched him up on facebook.

Chris Hemsworth. A sophomore basketball player that was probably riding on a scholarship. He was blond and beautiful with a wide and easy smile. Tom was already falling in love with his profile picture. But enough about that. This was just for a scavenger hunt and not for a potential future date.

The next day, Tom set out on his schedule. He went to his classes and in between went traversing around the campus to discover his items. After his last class, he had only two items left to scavenge. The shoelaces and Chris Hemsworth. He had a feeling finding Chris Hemsworth would be the hardest item to find since he had no idea where the guy usually stuck to on campus.

He went over to the physical activities complex and scoured the area for an athlete that would give him a shoelace. He stumbled upon the basketball court. And who did he happen to find? Yep. Chris Hemsworth.

_“Oh my god!”_ He dashed across the court, grinning like a loon as he latched onto Chris. “I need you to come with me now! It’s very important!”

He was so swept up in the adrenaline of the hunt that he latched onto Chris’s wrist and pulled him along. In retrospect he should’ve expected some resistance, some questioning, but Chris willingly followed, and together they raced out of the complex and towards the final meeting point.

It was two hours before the hunt ended, so Tom was fairly certain he had it in the bag. He saw the table and the neutral person they had sitting behind the table as judge. He upended his bag onto the table and declared every item as it was counted up.

“Oh!” He turned to Chris and pointed at his shoe. “I need your shoelace.”

Chris laughed and took off his shoe, setting it down on the table.

“And I have here a Chris Hemsworth,” Tom said. He thrust his hands into the sky and whooped as two of j friends just arrived with two of the scavenger list items following up behind them.

Now that the adrenaline was wearing off and as the others trickled in, Tom was finally able to see that Chris was still hanging around, missing one of his shoes. Tom sidled to him and bumped shoulders.

“Hey.”

Chris smiled. “Hey. So is this something you do all the time?”

“Um, no.” He laughed. “It was just a onetime thing. Ends with us going out for lunch tomorrow for fun.”

“Well, it was a lot of fun. I’ve never been a scavenger item before.”

Tom laughed and covered his face. Ah. There was the burning shame. “Oh my god. I can’t believe I actually had to find you and bring you with me. Honestly. I can’t even believe you came with me after no explanation.”

“Believe me, I’ve been part of weirder stuff. Didn’t even faze me. Besides.” He shrugged. “I had a lot of fun. We should do it again some time.”

Tom looked up and leaned in close. “Yeah? For the next scavenger hunt?”

Chris chuckled and nodded. “Yeah. Of course. This was fun.” He went to get his shoe and explained that he had to get back to the gym for practice. He waved at Tom and was about to depart when Tom ran up to him before he could get away.

“You know,” Tom said. “We’re having a lunch tomorrow. In honour of my victory. You can come, if you’d like. Seeing as you were a part of the scavenger hunt.”

“Yeah? You asking me out?” Chris winked at him, and Tom found himself blushing.

“Well, I guess. Yeah. It makes sense. And I had a lot of fun this afternoon. We should keep this going.”

“Yeah. I’d like to as well. Do you have your phone on you?”

“Yeah.” He gave Chris the phone and waited patiently as he typed in his number.

“Send me a message sometimes, and we’ll figure something out together.”

Tom nodded and grinned. “Yeah. Talk to you later.”

And Chris was off again. Tom looked at the number and smiled. What an odd yet interesting afternoon.

His friend David, the one who organized the hunt, ambled over to his side and set his chin on Tom’s shoulder looking down at his phone and smirking. “Wow. Nice one, Tommy. I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who’s gonna bang their hunt item.

Tom rolled his eyes. “Have fun chipping in for my lunch, loser.”

* * *

The next day they met up at a simple diner for lunch. Chris was a bit late, but smiled once he saw Tom and the empty chair beside him. He sat down and said hello to everyone at the table—those part of the hunt and a few others that joined in. They probably all saw it. Tom’s inherent liking towards Chris. But they all smiled and welcomed Chris in, and David was only marginally nosy.

Tom really only had eyes for Chris, and while the red in his cheeks never truly left, at least Chris only had eyes for him as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like to see me write something specific, send me a a prompt on [tumblr](http://mjolnir-s-master.tumblr.com/)


	5. The Extra Mile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> something involving Chris and Tom working out in a weight room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for body and self-esteem issues

Tom liked to believe he wasn’t self-conscious, but the truth is he was. When he was younger and in public school, he was often teased for his looks. The other children liked to tug on his curls and watch them spring back. He then convinced his mother to have his hair shaved which he would keep short until he was out of high school. It didn’t help that his mother was single and worked two jobs to keep their apartment and provide for Tom. It was a hard childhood full of hand-me-down clothing that was often a few sizes too large. Which was why Tom worked so hard to get into college and make a good life so he could support his mother in return for all the hard work she did for him. And he did just that! But the self-esteem issues from his childhood persisted long into his adult life.

He still kept his hair short and slicked back so it wouldn’t curl. He tried to look after his body and eat right because his health was important to him. He had always been thin growing up with limbs too long and joints too bony. But now he was evening out. Now he had a body he could work with.

With a steady job and a secure home, Tom now moved onto the personal relationships in his life. Throughout high school and college, Tom avoided making relationships and dating. He would look at himself in the mirror and see a scrawny, pale thing that no one would ever be interested in. But now he had a plan. He had hired a gym instructor to coach him through weight lifting routines. He would work out three times a week and gain some muscle mass. Women liked men with broad shoulders and firm muscles. It was a guaranteed way to emerge onto the dating scene.

His gym instructor was called Chris Hemsworth and had that reputation of being the God of Thunder. Tom didn’t understand why God of Thunder until he met Chris in the flesh. 6’4”, blue eyes, blond hair, and bulging muscles. If Thor had an alter ego, it would be Chris Hemsworth.

They talked for the first half hour of Tom’s first lesson. Chris wanted to know what Tom’s goals were and what it was that he wanted to take away from their lessons.

“I just want you to transform me,” Tom said. “Just make different, make me better.”

Chris gave him an odd look before smiling and nodded. “Okay. Let’s see what we can do.”

They started out slowly. Chris created a regiment for Tom to follow at the gym and at home that worked out his body effectively. Rotating different muscle groups so he wouldn’t be worn out quickly. It was going to be a long process, so Tom had to accept the fact that he wouldn’t see results right away. It was a process. The results would pay off eventually.

The first few lessons left Tom sore and slightly frustrated. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but he guessed he wanted something more. He wanted Chris to be rough with him, to be unrelenting in their workouts. He wanted to be put through the ringer and pushed to his limits. But Chris was nothing but patient and supportive, always reaching out to support Tom and show him the proper form so he wouldn’t hurt himself. He was too kind about it.

“Good work, Tom,” he would say as Tom lifted weights and tried to keep his breathing even. “Breathe out as you lift. There you go.”

Tom wanted to push harder and make himself work for once. But Chris hovered and took his job very seriously, making sure that Tom didn’t strain or hurt himself.

At the end of the day, Tom ended up frustrated and annoyed. This was not working as well as he thought it would.

He continued with the lessons as he was determined to make this work. He was starting to see improvements. He was filling out and taking on a more robust and masculine shape. But he felt hollow about it. It didn’t feel like he was working for it.

During their next lesson, Chris had to step away for a moment. Tom nodded and continued to work on his legs. He was on his back set at an angle with his feet set firmly on a plate that had weights attached it. He breathed out as he extended his legs, and breathe in as he brought them in at a steady pace. He continued his steady pace before he decided to move quicker. The steadily increasing burn in his legs was worth it. That was until something seized in his right leg.

“Oh, fuck!” He sat up and let the weights slam down on the machine. That’s when Chris decided to make his appearance.

“Oh, Tom!” he said, coming to hold Tom around the shoulders. “Hey, you all right? Sorry I wasn’t here to spot you. Let’s see what happened.”

Chris set his hands on Tom’s leg and dug into his thigh where the muscle had seized up. “You shouldn’t overextend yourself when you don’t have a spotter. You could really hurt yourself. And when was the last time you had a drink?”

Tom shrugged. Chris shook his head. “Go get a drink and take a walk around. We’ll get back to this later.”

Tom got up and took his water bottle for a walk around the gym. Now he just made himself look like an idiot in front of Chris, who would probably tone it down in their already calm workouts, further setting Tom back in his plans.

Already more irritated than he would like, he returned to Chris and said that he was cutting their session short.

“Something came up,” he said. “Sorry.”

“Hey, man, it’s no problem. I’ll see you next time.”

Tom nodded and left for the change room.

For his next workout, he showed up a bit earlier. Chris was working with another client. With this other man, Chris pushed him hard, urging him to keep going in a tone of voice he had never used with Tom. He was so rough and demanding. That’s what Tom wanted. Why did Chris treat them differently? Did he think that Tom couldn’t handle it? That he was somehow too weak to handle his demands?

Chris finished up with his client and spent a few minutes talking with the guy before he took off and left Chris alone. Chris saw Tom and waved at him with a smile.

“Hey, Tom,” he said. “How’s the leg?”

“Better. Thank you. Um. Could we talk about changing up my routine?”

“Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

“I want you to go harder with me. Just push me hard. Like you did with your previous client.”

“Listen, Tom. The routines I set up for my clients is based on their skill level and physique. I push my more advanced and more experienced clients harder because I know they can take it. But with you I need to have something set up that works gradually over time to build up your endurance. When I think you’re ready, we’ll step it up a notch.”

“How do you know I’m not ready now? I can show you.”

Chris seemed to think about this for a moment before he said, “We should talk about this in my office. Come on.”

Tom was lead to Chris’s office which was actually pretty spacious. It seemed like he had a lot of pull in this place.

“Yeah, I’m the co-owner of the place,” Chris said. “The hands on type.” He sat behind his desk and welcomed Tom to sit down in front of him. “So, are you having any issues with how I train you? Because I can find someone else if you’d like—a different trainer.”

Tom shook his head. “No, I don’t need that. I like having you as my trainer, but I just want something more out of the routine that I have now.”

Chris nodded. “Have you been unhappy with your service?”

Tom shrugged, looking away because he didn’t know exactly what he was dissatisfied with. He didn’t know if he was going to end up with the body he envisioned.

“I don’t know,” he said, putting his head in his hands and rubbing his eyes. He was so tired of being unhappy with his life. He just wished this frustration would end.

Chris got out of his chair and got down on his knees next to Tom. “What’s wrong?”

He was so calm about it, so sympathetic. Did he get a lot of clients with crippling self-esteem and body issues?

“It’s not working out how I thought it would,” Tom said, blinking fast to rid himself of the gathering tears.

“We’ll work through this together, all right?” Chris smiled and reached out to squeeze Tom’s shoulder. “Now why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”

Chris pulled his chair closer so they could have a more heart-to-hear talk. But it was easier said than done. It was a very hard thing for Tom to talk about—how he was unhappy with his body and wished for something else. He was actually a bit envious about Chris’s body. Surely he had no troubles in attracting women. But he did not say a lot of these things. Just the summation of it all.

“I was just expecting a different outcome of what I currently have,” Tom said. “To be honest I don’t even know what I was expecting originally.”

“And what did you want?”

“I don’t know. Something like you, I guess.”

Chris looked down in what seemed like embarrassment—or pride. “Well, thank you. But this took years of work and it is a bitch to maintain, let me tell you.” He smiled, light and easy. “And I think you need to know that everyone has their limitations. I am much more able to maintain this body mass than other people. Like for you, I’d peg you as more of runner than a weight lifter. Long term endurance than brute strength. You have the leaner body type for it.”

It made sense—that Tom’s body was more built for other activities than some. It made him feel a bit better about his situation. Still, it seemed like he wouldn’t be able to achieve the body that attracted attention. Maybe there was something else he could do.

“I think we should change up your routine, though. We could do some more running and jogging.”

“Mm.” Tom nodded and managed to look Chris in the eye. “I think I might like that.”

“All right. Let’s get back out there and change a few things up.”

They headed back out to the gym where Chris changed up the routing. First they did a few warm up stretches before Chris got Tom on a treadmill. Chris stood off to the side and watched as Tom took off on a slow jog. His routine was set up so he jogged in sets while he walked between each set. He was definitely feeling it in his lungs and calves.

At the end of the session, Chris smiled at him, and Tom felt a bit better at himself. Chris always looked at him like that after every session. He was so proud of him and happy for him. The support was nice because for once it wasn’t coming just from his mother and it wasn’t like it was pity at all. This was something genuine.

After Tom’s endurance built up, Chris said they should take a run through the city and get out of the gym’s atmosphere. “I’ll take you through all my favourite paths,” he said. “This way I can show you how to develop your own routines if you want to continue this outside of our time.”

“All right.”

They went out on their jog. Chris kept his pace steady and even for Tom to follow. They didn’t speak, but it was nice just for the two of them to be together and jog down the streets and turn through the park. They returned the gym after forty-five minutes for a cool down period and final stretches. Tom left the gym feeling better than he had in a long time. He slept deep that night and discovered the euphoric aftermath that running always left with him.

Running did give him a way to work out any frustration he was feeling those days. It left him with a better feeling of satisfaction than weight lifting had, and Chris seemed to notice this as well. He would always pat Tom on the back after their sessions and praise him for all the hard work he was doing.

Eventually their sessions came to an end. Tom was happy with what he got out of it and thanked Chris for all his help. Chris smiled and shook hands with Tom, pulling him in for a hug and sending him off with a fair amount of praise and positive outlooks for the future. Tom was a bit bashful leaving, but he enjoyed it none the less.

Two weeks after leaving the gym and not having Chris as his support team, Tom had hit a bit of a dilemma. He had lost his spark. He was becoming frustrated with how he looked once more. Nothing was ever good enough for him.

He began to run obsessively almost twice a day. He knew it wasn’t healthy, but the euphoric rush would make him feel better at least for a few hours. When he noticed he was losing weight, he knew he had to go to someone and have a chat because this was not healthy.

He went to the gym, hoping Chris wasn’t busy. He went up to the front desk and asked for him and was told to sit tight and wait.

“He’ll be right with you.”

He smiled and sat down on one of the chairs they had there. It took a while for Chris to come out, and Tom felt instantly better when he saw Chris and his smile. He missed this.

“Tom, hey! How’s it going?”

“All right for now. Could we talk in private?”

“Sure thing.”

They entered Chris’s office, and Chris instantly became concerned. “What is it?” he asked with a slight frown. “Do you need something?”

“I-I-I need help,” Tom said, looking down at his hands set in his lap. “I haven’t been doing well recently, and I just need some advice on how to fix it all.”

“Fix what exactly?”

“My life,” Tom said with a bitter laugh tacked on the end to try and make the situation a bit lighter, but that didn’t seem to work.

“Tell me everything from the start.”

So Tom did because finally he had met someone who seemed to give a damn about him. And Chris took all of it and said the appropriate things during the appropriate times. He nodded along and asked questions when he had to. When all was said and done, Chris pulled his chair closer and set a hand out on the desk closer to Tom.

“We’ll think of something, all right?” He gave time a small but reassuring smile that somehow made Tom feel a bit better on the inside.

Chris set up a meal plan and workout regimen for Tom to follow. He set up a support net for Tom to fall back on and gave him all sorts of connections to health specialists. “And I’ll be here, too,” he affirmed. “If you ever need advice or just need to talk, here’s my email and here’s my phone number.”

Tom pulled the piece of paper towards himself and looked over all the information Chris had given him. It was incredibly thoughtful, and now Tom felt less likely to fall apart the moment he was on his own again.

“Thank you,” he said. “This really means a lot to me.”

“It’s my job,” Chris said. “I like helping people.”

Tom went off and started on Chris’s new and improved plan for him. It wasn’t anything too strenuous. Just very organized so he could keep track of his food intake and his exercise routine. Seeing the results in front of him would help him keep track of what he was doing to his body. He followed up with some of the specialists Chris had suggested and began to take charge of his life. Plus he kept in contact with Chris regularly because he felt good about their relationship. After a few weeks of staying in contact, Tom felt confident enough to approach Chris one day.

“I was wondering if you’d like to go out for dinner with me,” Tom said. “As a thank you of sorts for all that you’ve done for me.”

“I’d love to.”

And that’s how it began. That’s how Tom discovered a man who would love him unconditionally and hold him together when he felt like he was falling apart. Chris was full of life and energy and restored Tom’s confidence in himself.

It may not be the way Tom envisioned his life going, but he couldn’t imagine it going any other way.


	6. Starting Position

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: chris is obligated to start on yoga lessons. tom is the lovely, sweet and pretty teacher and chris finds him the cutest, but is too nervous to ask him out so they just keep staring at each other during the lessons

“I’m going to suggest you start taking a yoga class,” Chris’s doctor Alysia Dwight said. “It’ll help with managing your stress and give you an alternative to working out your aggression. If you feel it’s not working, we’ll try another method.”

Chris was given the address to a local yoga studio and later looked up the website to find a class he could sign up for. Stress from work and family matters had recently made it difficult for him to sleep and eat. It would eventually manifest itself as tense shoulders, jaw clenching, and cases of aggression where he would snap at his coworkers—which he would apologize for after because he knew this was not who he was.

His first yoga class was on a Saturday morning. Dress code asked for something flexible and form fitting as loose clothing would get in the way. Mats and refreshments would be provided, so really all Chris had to do was bring himself.

When he set foot in the studio, about a dozen others were gathered there as well. Popular class then. Chris chose a mat that was off to the side and located in the middle. He had no desire of being singled out for anything and would rather lose himself in the crowd instead. He toed off his shoes and socks and situated himself on his mat. The others had all joined as well as a thin, blond haired man took up the mat at the front of the room.

“Good morning, everyone!” the man said. “I see a few familiar faces here today, but for those of you don’t know me, my name is Tom and I will be your instructor for the course of the session. This class is used primarily for beginners in yoga, so we’ll be taking things slow and patiently for everyone to remain on the same course. All right! So let’s begin.”

There was so sort of soft, instrumental music floating through the speakers in the room. Chris fought the urge to roll his eyes. This was what his doctor wanted him to do? Seemed a bit corny to him.

Tom led them through the exercises and the positions slowly and in a flowing, calm voice. His constant stream of instructions was easy for Chris to listen to and tune in to. He had a nice voice, Chris had to admit. It was the kind of voice that could be used for audio books or sleep tapes. He idly wondered if Tom had a line of business for that beyond the yoga instruction.

“And we’ll now hold this position for a count of ten.”

Yeah. His voice was definitely a good reason to continue with these yoga classes.

At the end of the hour, Chris was feeling a lot more relaxed than he normally was. The class was welcome to stay for refreshments afterwards in a break room. Chris was not feeling all that sociable that day, so he left with a few others, but not before seeing Tom.

He was shaking everybody’s hand as they left the room. Chris stepped up and offered his hand.

“Thank you for joining us today!” Tom said, smile so bright and teeth so white that Chris thought he might go blind if he stared for too long. “I hope you return for another class. I always love seeing new faces in the crowd.”

Chris withdrew his hand and noted that it was burning. “Yeah, we’ll see. See you.”

“Good bye!”

Yeah. Chris was _definitely_ returning to this.

He came back the following week but chose a different mat. Still on the edge but closer to the front so he could have a better view of Tom. When Tom saw him, he smiled bright and waved at him as he readied the music for the speakers and got into position to address his class.

The techniques of this class were more or less the same as last week with a few new ones added to the mix. Chris found himself paying extra attention to Tom and the way he conducted himself while teaching. He also paid attention to the clothes Tom was wearing, because there was no way he couldn’t. Tight black jogging bottoms and a tight t-shirt that was so thin Chris swore he could make out the impression of a nipple.

He found himself staring for too long and had lost himself in the lesson. He quickly regained his bearings and trained himself not to look at the hint of nipple there before him. Despite how tantalizing it was and inviting, just asking Chris to reach out and lick it, give it a bit of a nip.

He lost his train of thought several times throughout the hour as he could not keep thinking about Tom’s physique. He had nicely toned calves and biceps. His shoulders were broad but not overly so, suggesting that yoga was his main form of physical activity than that of weight lifting. Whenever he lifted his arms, Chris was treated to a view of his flat and slightly toned stomach. And at that point, Chris gave up on trying to remain attentive.

“Wonderful class today,” Chris said as he shook Tom’s hand at the end of the lesson.

Tom smiled. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Will we see you again next week?”

“I hope so.”

“Oh, good. I’m glad. You know, if you ever feel like this is getting to easy, you can join my more intermediate class. Starts an hour after this one.”

“I’ll think about. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome!”

The third week in and Chris was noticing improvements in his life because of the yoga. He was definitely less stressful than he used to be. He was snapping less at family and friends, which was good. He didn’t like being a stress ball covered in rage. It might’ve also had to do with the countless orgasms he had in the shower while fantasizing about Tom. That could’ve helped, too.

At some point he wondered how creepy it was to fantasize about his yoga instructor as he rubbed one out, one hand on the slick bathroom tiles, breathing hard and grunting. He barely knew anything about Tom. Perhaps he should get to know him a bit better before his fantasies got out of control.

During the fourth lesson, Chris noticed something about Tom. As much as he was staring at Tom, Tom seemed to also look at him just as often. Lingering looks that upon being noticed would cause him to look away and blush slightly as he regained his composure and returned to the lesson at hand. It was cute and gave Chris some relief as he realized the attraction was mutual. Made him feel less creepy.

“Do you happen to do private lessons?” Chris asked. “Because I think I’d like to have a more formal lesson with you. When it’s just us.”

“Oh, um. I do in fact have slots for private instruction,” Tom said. “They’re thirty minute lessons I hold throughout the week, so you’ll have to choose a slot if you’d like one.”

“Yes, of course. Where do I sign up?”

Tom gave him a sheet on the available slots throughout the week. Chris put his name down for a Tuesday afternoon slot.

“All right. I’ll see you Tuesday then!”

“Yeah. See you Tuesday.”

The day went by slower on Tuesday than it normally did. Chris kept looking to the clock, waiting for the minute he could leave. He arrived fifteen minutes early and was pleased to see that Tom was on his own in his studio. There were two mats laid out closer to each other. The air of the room smelt freshly scented of wild flowers. Tom stepped away from the stereo when he heard Chris enter. He turned his head and smiled, and Chris felt his stomach flutter.

“Come on in, Chris.” Tom waved him over to sit cross legged on the mat.

Chris sat, mirroring Tom’s image and smiled. “Thanks for letting me do this. I really think I can get more out the lesson if it’s just us.”

“I do agree that the one-on-one lesson is more focused and concentrated than group settings,” Tom explained. “Some people do get more out of it like this. So! Let’s get started, shall we?”

Chris went along with the motions. Tom was using more difficult moves than what Chris was used to. But this way it was a more hands on setting. Tom would kneel beside him and coax him through the motions, setting his hand on Chris’s back to encourage proper posture. His hand left searing imprints all over Chris’s body. Maybe private lessons were a bad idea.

(Or maybe it’s the best idea, a small part of him thought, which may or may not have been his dick.)

“Good job, Chris,” Tom said. “You’re doing very well.”

Once Chris understood the movements, Tom set himself on his own mat and led Chris through the session. They mirrored one another, moving through the actions in sync, breathing together, hearts nearly beating as one. And all Chris could think about was what Tom liked to eat when he went out on a date.

They finished off the session sitting cross legged across from each other, breathing together as they brought to a close.

“And we’re done for the day,” Tom said, smiling at Chris. He stood up in one fluid movement and helped Chris to his feet. “Will I be seeing you again next week?”

“Uh, yeah. I’d love to continue this.”

“And I look forward to it. Good night, Chris.”

“Good night, Tom.”

It wasn’t that Chris didn’t like the private lessons. He did. Very much so, but he kept looking out for the perfect moment to ask Tom out. He would have the words on the tip of his tongue, practiced on his way to the studio, but they would never get past his lips. He just couldn’t say them. It had to be due to the nerves and the fact that every time Tom looked at him, Chris’s thoughts turned to mush. So it came as a big surprise to him when Tom approached him after the end of one of their lessons.

“Uh, Chris. I was wondering if I could ask you something.” Tom was looking as bashful as Chris felt whenever he tried to pluck up the courage to ask him out. “Are you busy Saturday evening?”

“No. Why?”

“Well, um. I was wondering if you’d like to come over to my place for dinn—”

“Yes,” Chris said. “I would love to.”

Tom smiled and tilted his head to the side. “All right. See you Saturday then? I’ll text you the time and place.”

“Sure. I look forward to it.”

“So do I.”

Well now that that happened, Chris decided to use the moment to lean forward and place a small kiss on Tom’s cheek. Tom smiled and Chris made his departure before his desperation made him do anything stupid.

After their third date, they ended up in Chris’s apartment with glasses of wine and a movie on the TV. Chris was content in holding Tom in his arms and feeling the warmth bleed into him. Tom turned in his arms and propped himself up over Chris and kissed him soundly on the lips.

“Would you like to see me putting my yoga skills to practical use?” he whispered, biting Chris on the ear lobe and kissing him down his neck.

“Yes.”

He sat up quickly and pulled Tom after him into the bedroom. Dating a yoga instructor certainly had its perks.


	7. Waiting at Your Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “i’m a newly-turned werewolf without a pack and i can’t really control myself well on full moon nights yet and you keep finding me passed out naked on your lawn” AU

Five months after Chris is bitten, he notices that he’s beginning to form a habit. After the fourth time of waking up in the same guy’s backyard, he’s decided that his wolf counterpart has fallen in love. The man in question is named To. Their first meeting was, well, awkward.

When he woke up, sore all over and covered in blood from some poor animal, it was to find a thin man standing above him with a towel and a glass of orange juice. He was smiling. He wasn’t freaking out and calling the police (an incident that happened to Chris the first month he changed). He was very rational about the situation and not at all embarrassed by Chris’s bloodied state or nudity.

His explanation: “There’s a pack that lives in the woods just behind my house. This is hardly the first time this has happened.” He handed him the glass of orange juice. Chris guzzled it and took up the offered towel to cover his, um, assets.

He was expecting not to see Tom again, thinking it was a one time, odd meeting. But after the next full moon, there was Tom again. Towel and orange juice and smile.

“No pack yet?” he asked once Chris was showered and dressed (as a policy, Tom usually had extra pairs of clothes around for the werewolves who happened to wake up on Tom’s lawn).

Chris shook his head. “I think I’m more of a lone wolf type of person.”

Tom laughed and blew at his coffee. “See you next time?”

Chris shrugged. “We’ll see.”

After the fourth time of waking up on Tom’s property, he has decided that his wolf is in love with the guy. He can smell himself all over the property. Which means his wolf is scent marking the place to keep other wolves away from Tom. Because apparently Tom is his wolf’s charge. He doesn’t know how to feel about this.

This time Tom offers him some breakfast before he calls for a cab.

“So,” Chris says, crossing his arms over his chest. He thinks he’s on pretty amicable terms with Tom now considering he spends quite a bit of time on the guy’s property. “Do you ever hear anything during full moons?”

Tom shrugs and reaches for a rubber spatula for the eggs. “Howling and barking for the most part. I have heard some of the wolves scratch at my door, and sometimes I find holes on my lawn. But other than that it’s not so bad.”

Chris shuffles on his feet. “Well, I’m just wondering if my wolf self ever just prowls around the house.”

Tom looks over his shoulder at him. He grins. “Well. I have noticed a nice pale wolf prancing around my property line. Would that be you?”

“Well, I think my wolf is in love with you?”

“Question or fact?”

“Oh, probably fact. I’ve woken up on your lawn for the past five full moons. So I think I’m pretty sure my wolf is in love with you.”

Tom sets the food on two plates and serves them both. “And what about you?” he asks.

“What about me?”

“Do you share similarities with your wolf? About who you like?”

“Umm—”

Tom laughs and invites him to sit down. “Don’t worry. I won’t tease you any longer.”

They eat breakfast together, and Tom sees him out at the door. “See you next month!” he says.

“Uh, yeah!” Chris tosses him a wave and gets into a cab. Maybe he should keep a bike at Tom’s. Cab fare is eating up a good amount of his assets.

After the sixth full moon, Chris sees Tom sitting beside him and decides that it’s time to be true to himself and true to Tom.

“I think I might like you,” he says. “Just a bit.”

Tom smiles and holds up a glass of orange juice. “I think I might like you as well.”

He begins to see Tom outside of his cycle. It’s clear that his wolf doesn’t have a pack or doesn’t want to be part of one. Plus Tom is actually pretty knowledgeable about werewolves and their lore. He has given Chris a lot of information about the creature that now is a part of him. He says Chris will eventually become in tuned with his wolf counterpart so the night of the full moon won’t be a total blank for the rest of his life.

Now that they are seeing each other, Chris is having dinners at Tom’s the night before the full moon. It makes it easier to have his own stuff here in the morning so he doesn’t have to keep borrowing something of Tom’s. Not that he doesn’t mind. His wolf likes having Tom’s scent close by. It keeps it calm and happy. And he’s starting to like it, too, despite how he’s bigger and broader than Tom and usually stretches out the shirts he’s given.

After dinner, Chris says he’s going out for a run. He gets antsy around three hours before midnight. So he pecks Tom on the lips and gets ready to go for a quick run. He’s been debating about just running into the woods naked since he doesn’t want to keep losing clothing, but he’s not sure if he’s crossed that line yet.

“You’ll be able to turn on your own soon enough,” Tom says. “So you won’t have to worry about breaking any public nudity laws. So go have a good run, and I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” He grabs Tom close for a hug and a kiss.

Tom giggles. “Really, it’s all because of your wolf. Super adorable and slobbery. Like a puppy.” He presses a kiss to Chris’s cheek and shoves him out the door. There’s an extra spring in his step during his job that night.

* * *

Tom wakes to scratching at his door. He slept on the couch to wait to the signal. He goes to his back door and looks out the window, seeing the familiar pale werewolf sat on his back steps. He opens the door and bends down to great the large beast.

“Hello there, Christopher,” he says, letting him sniff his hands and feel safe before allowing him in. “You are beautiful.”

After Chris determines that Tom is Tom and licks at his hands, Tom stand up and the wolf follows, wagging its bushy tail, tongue lolling. “Come on in, gorgeous. No jumping on the furniture.”

Tom shuts the door and follows the enthusiastic wolf into the living room. It seems like the wolf is interested in sniffing everything and trying to rough house with Tom. Tom allows it for a bit, laughing whenever Chris’s attention is distracted and he looks to the side. He knows about the complications that come with having a werewolf as a boyfriend. But he has always been the type to take the good with the bad.

* * *

Chris wakes up not on the lawn but in a bed for once. It’s the first time he’s woken up in a bed after a full moon since he’s changed. He’s naked, of course. And there’s another occupant in the bed. Fully clothed. Blond, curly hair. Sleepy eyes blinking up at him.

“Good morning, my sweet wolf,” Tom says, stretching out and looking up at him through lidded eyes.

“What happened last night?”

“You wanted to come in and play. So I let you and it was, well, fun!” Tom grins at him and leans up on his elbows. “How are you feeling?”

“No more drained than usual. Did we, um, do anything weird last night? I always have this fear of fucking something while I’m in my wolf form. And it just weirds me out a bit about waking up in bed.”

Tom shakes his head. “All you wanted to do was sleep on the bed with me. You gave me the puppy eyes, and I couldn’t resist.” He kisses Chris on the nose and kicks back the covers. “Shower?”

“Yes please.”

They take it one day at a time after that. Chris’s wolf isn’t really a wild wolf like the other werewolves in the area are. He’s more of the domesticated type. Likes being fed by hand. Likes having scratches behind the ears and belly rubs. Likes sleeping on a bed with a human he’s decided is his. He may not have found a home with a pack, but he’s happy with Tom. His love. His mate. His.


	8. Crawling at Your Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ** Goldilocks AU featuring huntsman!Chris and goldilocks!Tom. Little Tom stumbles into a cabin in the woods, but there is no mommy bear or baby bear, there’s only grumpy old daddy bear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt came from a long [list](http://pohjanneito.tumblr.com/post/119386365447/prompts/). I guess this one could be considered underage? But it is never explicitly stated what Tom's exact age is other than once, so take this lightly.
> 
> Also we finally have porn. Yeah!

Tom had been in the woods for three days before he stumbled upon the cabin. It was a simple thing made of wood with a chimney jutting out of the roof. Judging from the state of freshly chopped wood, he assumed that someone lived there. But from the lack of smoke, they were not home. Surely they would not mind if he stopped in for a moment. Just for a bit of food and water and then he would be on his way again. He was so hungry. Just for a while. He’d be long gone before anyone came back.

He entered the cabin and found that it was modestly furnished. There was a kitchen and sitting side and a bedroom side that was separated by a wall. Not much too it. Perfect for just one person.

Tom went to the pantries and opened up all the cupboards and drawers to find something he could eat. He was used to much finer things than the canned and jarred preserves he found here. But there was a pot of stew hanging over the fire pit. It was covered as to keep flies and other pests out. There was still a good sized serving within the pot, so Tom decided to help himself. Best not to waste food. The owner probably wouldn’t mind. Or ever notice for that matter.

The stew was made of venison with chunks of potatoes, carrots, and onion tossed in. There was barely any seasoning upon it or any finesse. But he could not be choosy now. The food was surprisingly good. He wolfed it down in a matter of minutes. Sitting at the small table there, he was suddenly overcome with a wave of fatigue. His eyelids and limbs felt heavy. Perhaps he should rest for a few moments before he continued his trek through the woods. He didn’t know when he would come upon a cabin like this again.

The bed was fairly large with down filled pillows and fine fur pelts. Tom sank down upon it, groaning in relief and rubbing his face onto the pillows. Whoever slept here had a woodsy, earthy scent. There was also musk there, but he cared little. He had not slept decently in many days. So his exhaustion worked quickly and he wouldn’t be able to leave this bed even if he wanted to.

* * *

Chris was not a true child of the woods in the sense that fairies and nymphs were. But he belonged here just as much as they did. The forest was a part of him—in his veins, in his heart, in his soul. He could not remember the last time he had met with another human and even spoken to them. He found the isolation of the woods to be comforting as the people in the villages saw him as odd and rough. He could get by on his own well enough. The fairies and other forest creatures tolerated him well enough, even coming out of their hiding spots to greet him or even ask him for help.

He liked it here. He had a modest house, a modest life. It was perfect for him. So when he found someone in his house, he was more than a little displeased.

He did not think highly of thieves, so when he saw the used bowl on the table and the lump on his bed, he assumed the worst. He yanked back the blankets and pelts and grabbed onto the intruder’s arm and hauled him out of the bed.

The intruder was not at all what he expected of a thief. Here he had a kid that was barely half the size of him—stick arms and neck; soft, pale skin; golden, curly hair; and a pouty, rosy mouth that was twisted into a pout.

The boy—because that’s all he could be—squawked at being awoken and hauled out of bed. But he quickly quieted and paled once he saw who it was that had awoken him so rudely. Chris was a mountain even compared to the average man. His hair was often dirty and knotted, pulled back and bound at the back of his neck. His beard was scruffy and course. His wrists and arms were thick from hard labour in the forest. And he often wore a near permanent scowl whenever in the company of his own kind.

“I don’t care who you are,” Chris growled, giving the boy a hard shake and earning a whimper in return. “But I don’t like trespassers.” He held on tightly to the boy’s thin arm and tossed him outside. “Get lost, kid.” He shut the door hard and went to start a fire for dinner.

First he scoured the house and made sure that all of his belongings were where they were supposed to be. They were. He sighed and went to the pantry to see what he had yet to make a meal out of, considering the boy he had eaten his.

* * *

Tom was quaking next to the small cabin. He had never been treated so roughly in his entire life. He was sure that his arm would bruise from the grip of the brute. He had no desire to feel those hands on him again. The rough and uncouth touch. While he knew the home owner would probably be mad, he had expected something more civil, perhaps.  But that man was all wild and primal instincts. Nothing civil about him.

Tom wished he had the strength to continue on his journey and find some other place to live in. But his feet were sore and blistered. He was hungry and tired and hadn’t bathed properly in a long time. He was offensive even to his own nose. So he sat against the cabin wall and tried to think about what to do now.

The door to the cabin suddenly opened, and the bear of a man appeared. He did a double take when he saw Tom on the ground and immediately frowned.

“Didn’t I tell you to get lost?” he said, walking towards a stump of wood used for wood chopping. He took up the ax, possibly as a means of threat. “Get out of here, boy. I don’t want you here.”

“Please!” Tom said. “I-I’m lost and frightened. I’ve been wandering the w-woods for three days now, and all I wanted was a place to rest for a moment. I did not mean to hurt you, sir.”

The bear-man rolled his eyes and set a log on the stump before splitting it with the ax—the sound so violent that Tom flinched.

“If you don’t know how to live in the woods,” bear-man said, “then what are you doing here?”

Tom pulled up his knees and watched as the man continued to chop wood. “I had to leave,” he said. “I would’ve been killed otherwise.”

“So you would rather choose a slow and painful death in a forest full of mean spirits?”

“I’ve read stories.”

Bear-man chuckled. “Stories. Like that’ll help.”

“I have! And I have made it three days here now without dying. But I was wondering if I could stay with you a while. Until I know it is safe to return home.”

The bear-man set the ax blade in the stump and stacked up the split logs against the house. “What do you have to offer in return? If I let you stay, that is.”

“I can pay you when I return home. I come from a wealthy family.”

“And if you never make it back home? Gold is of little value to me, boy. And I don’t need a useless mouth to feed.”

“I can do other things for you. I can cook. And clean!”

Bear-man approached him quickly and yanked him up while Tom shied away. His hands were grabbed to expose the soft skin of his palms and fingertips. “Never worked a day in your life. Like I said. Useless.”

“I am a quick learner!” Tom said. “Whatever you want. I can do it for you. I promise you. Let me stay for three days. If I have not proved my worth by the end of them, I will leave you in peace, and you will never see me again.”

Bear-man seemed to consider this proposition, for his features softened for a moment before he craned his head down to Tom’s level. “All right. I’ll make the deal with you. Three days or you’re out of here.”

Tom’s face broke into one of his brightest smiles. “Oh, thank you, sir! You won’t regret this. I swear!”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see.”

Dinner was a small affair of root vegetables and preserves. Bear-man, or Chris as he was called, said he would go hunting and fill up the meat stores.

“I’ll be out all day, so no fooling around,” he said as he set some pelts on the ground before the fire for Tom to sleep on. “If anyone comes here, don’t open the door and keep your mouth shut. And I want this place cleaned top to bottom before I return. Can you handle that?”

Tom nodded and sat down on the bed that had been made for him. He was a very grateful person after all. “Of course. Anything else?” He smiled up at Chris, batting his lashes a bit because he knew his looks could soften any rage.

But the frown did not disappear on Chris’s face. He did say nothing in return and retreated to his own room, shutting the door securely to keep some distance between the two of them.

Tom settled down next to the dying embers of the fire. That was one crisis solved. He had a roof over his head and food for the foreseeable future. Now all he had to do was win over Chris’s favour and he would be set for life.

* * *

Chris was unsure about the boy. He was much too pampered for this way of life, which begged the question what was he doing out here in the first place? He reminded Chris of some of the fairies he caught flitting around. The golden locks gave him the image of being sweet and young, but the set of his mouth would usually give him away. A sly grin, a pout, a sweet smile. Chris would like nothing more than to be rid of the boy, but he was afraid he was starting to grow accustomed to him.

As the boy promised, the house was surprisingly neat when Chris returned after his hunt. He simply nodded and went back outside to carve up the deer he had brought back.

Tom, as the boy was called, was green around the edges when it came to the supply of meat. He turned white when he saw Chris covered in the blood of the deer. Chris was not wearing a shirt as he preferred not to have to pound out the bloodstains later on.

“This is how you are fed,” Chris said, ignoring how the boy paled when Chris entered with a hunk of bloody meat he intended to turn into their dinner. “If you don’t like it, then you can leave.”

At the mention of leaving, Tom plucked up his courage and approached Chris so he could help with the cooking. Maybe there was more to this kid than met the eye.

He chopped vegetables while Chris worked on curing the meat. The rest of the deer was being smoked and preserved. Tom was proving his worth, but Chris would reserve his judgment until after the three days.

The next day he gave Tom a few more duties. The pelt he had received from the deer needed to be cleaned. He had stretched out the pelt on a frame and brought Tom out so he could scrape off the remaining flesh from the pelt so it could be cured and turned into another blanket.

Chris stood behind Tom and guided his hands with the blood. “You have to apply just enough pressure,” he said. “Otherwise you’ll either tear through it or not take enough off.” He guided Tom’s hand for a bit, feeling the tremors of the boy as he was unaccustomed to such work like this. Once he seemed to get the hang of it, he slapped the boy on the shoulder and retreated to the smoke house. Maybe having him here wouldn’t be so bad after all.

* * *

Tom supposed that since Chris was putting him to work that he was likely considering letting Tom stay. He was proving himself useful time and time again, and Chris was less likely to scowl at him and huff.  After the third day, Tom was waiting for his verdict. Chris said nothing except goodnight after dinner. Tom beamed at him, and Chris scowled, departing to his bedroom for the rest of the night.

Days turned into weeks, and the two began to strike up an easy affection for one another. Tom was not afraid to approach Chris with any concerns he had. Chris was less likely to become frustrated with Tom and spent more time teaching him than berating him. It wasn’t what he was used to, but he would rather live anonymously in these woods than live life in a cell or be killed.

One night Chris asked him about his home life. It was over yet another bowl of stew that was more seasoned than the last batches as Tom was providing useful in foraging for herbs and spices (even going so far as to start a small garden close to the cabin so he wouldn’t have to forage deep into the woods).

“Why did you leave?” he asked.

Tom sighed. Now that he was sure Chris was not concerned with kingdom affairs, he felt safe in divulging some information. “My stepmother wanted the throne. But she couldn’t take it while I was still alive. So I ran.” He shrugged. He had no intentions of going back.

Chris pointed a finger at him. “I remember you,” he said quietly, frowning and Tom was scared for a moment that Chris would turn him in to possibly gain some sort of reward. “A few years ago, I was in town to pick up a few items, and there you were on a white pony. You and your father were passing through. I remember you.”

Tom had been thirteen when his father was still alive.

“You’re the prince,” Chris said.

Tom nodded and could suddenly stomach no more of the stew. “What will you do now that you know?”

Chris shrugged. “It’s not my place to do anything. It doesn’t matter who you were. You can stay. I’m not going to do anything.”

Tom’s stomach loosened, and he could breathe again. “Thank you, Chris.”

Chris grunted and hunched his shoulders. “Nothing to it.”

* * *

When winter began to creep in, Chris and Tom filled up their food stores. Almost everything was packed away in the food cellar outside, and Chris brought back more logs to keep the fire going. When winter closed in, they would more or less be stuck inside together for days on end. They divided up the pelts evenly for Tom’s spot on the floor and Chris’s bed. Hopefully that would keep the boy warm.

It did not.

One night, Chris came in with an armful of wood and stacked it close to the fire. He took off his coat and boots and walked into his bedroom only to find his bed already occupied. He shut the door, and Tom poked out his head. There seemed to be more blankets than usual on the bed.

“I was cold,” he said. “Can I sleep with you?”

“Fine. But just this once.”

Chris crawled onto the bed and shuffled underneath the blankets. Tom kept close the wall, huddled in his own blankets. He was curled up tightly in a ball that would no doubt be bad for his muscles in the morning.

“C’mere,” he said, pulling Tom into his arms to they could share body heat. He took off his shirt as well because he knew skin on skin contact was the best option. It was light enough for him to catch sight of the red creeping over Tom’s cheeks and to his hairline. “It’s better this way,” he said, stroking a hand up and down Tom’s thin back to encourage the blood flow.

Tom uncurled enough and pressed his body close to Chris’s, relaxing into the warmth he received from Chris’s body. “How long have you lived like this?” he asked quietly, curling and uncurling his fingers against Chris’s chest.

“Years. I can barely remember a time when I lived with other humans.”

“Why did you choose this?”

Chris breathed deeply, catching the boy’s sweet scent and stopping himself from nuzzling his golden curls. “Don’t know anymore. I just like being alone, being away from the wars and the death. And the stench of it all.”

“Mm.”

A few moments later, Tom’s breath evened out, warm puffs against his skin. Chris couldn’t remember the last time he had held someone in his arms like this. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been intimate with someone. He would admit to himself that new feelings for Tom were emerging. Tom’s enthusiasm and kind, loving nature made it hard to hate him. He often found himself staring at Tom with a curl of arousal spreading in his stomach. Which he would squash immediately or head out into the woods to work out his frustration. Tom was too innocent and too young for this. He deserved someone better.

* * *

Tom woke up for the first time not shivering since winter came to the forest. He was wrapped up by strong limbs and a mound of blankets. The reason for his waking was that Chris was shifting behind him. More like thrusting actually. He looked over his shoulder and saw the Chris was still asleep. There was also something hard thrusting up against his backside. He had read about this before from books at the palace library that were stuffed away in shame. How two men made love that often included illustrations.

The more Chris humped him from behind, the hotter Tom became. He let one of his hands drop down to his crotch where he cupped himself through his trousers. He moved in time with Chris, growing harder in his palm and was about to spill when there was a sudden rush of cold air against his back.

He turned onto his side and saw Chris standing at the side of his bed, eyes wide with a large bulge in his trousers that Tom couldn’t help but look at. Chris noticed this and fled the room. He heard the front door shut before he shoved his hands into his trousers and brought himself to climax. He kicked off the blankets and wiped his hand off on his trousers.

He had his own small pile of clothes now that Chris had gone to town to get. He dressed into his warmest clothes and bundled all the dirty ones up so he could wash. He gathered snow from outside and set it in a pot that hung over the fire. Soon he would have enough water to clean the clothes with and hang them on a line next to the fire.

Chris did not come back to the cabin for many hours. Tom did hear his return when he heard the swing of the ax against wood. He went to the window and watched him for a moment. He could not deny that he found Chris handsome. Rugged and burly like the bear-man he was. He just wished they could talk about the events in the bedroom this morning. He wanted to know if Chris felt the same way about him.

Chris entered the house when he was obviously driven in by hunger. Tom had finally finished scrubbing clean the clothes and hung them upon the line in front of the fire to dry. Chris had pulled out some preserves and cracked open the jar. Tom quietly stepped up towards him, touching his arm to get his attention.

“Chris.”

He felt Chris bristle immediately. “What?” he asked gruffly.

“Could we talk—”

“Look, Tom,” he said, cutting straight to the issue at hand. “I know what you’re going to say. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you.”

“Taken advantage?” Tom said. “You took nothing. I got off on it just like you did. You did nothing wrong.”

“So you say now, but I don’t want you to feel pressured into something you don’t want to do. I mean, you could do so much better than me.”

Oh. So that was the issue.

“I owe you my life, Chris,” Tom said, touching Chris’s arm again and squeezing his bicep. “You’ve shown me much kindness. And I love you for it.” He pressed closer to Chris.

Chris remained tense, leaning away as he battled with himself. Tom knew there were many differences between them, but love could overcome them. He knew it, had read about it multiple times.

“Oh, hell.” Chris turned quick and captured Tom’s lips in a quick and rough kiss. “You are so infuriating and spoiled. Always getting what you want.”

“I was a prince,” Tom said with a grin. “I always know what to say when I want something.”

Chris growled and swept his hands down Tom’s back onto his arse. He lifted Tom off his feet and pressed him against the wall, his mouth sealing hot kisses against his skin. Tom keened and bared his neck for the nips and bites. He grasped onto Chris’s long hair and pulled, scratching his scalp.

Still off the floor, Chris carried him into the bedroom and laid him upon bed. He quickly stripped Tom of his clothes—and his breath—before discarding his own. The size of him made Tom’s stomach coil in want and fear. He didn’t know how that would fit inside of him.

He settled himself upon the bed with his legs spread wide. He waited as Chris rummaged around in the house to come in with a small pot that was full of a salve Chris often used for his dry hands. He bent over Tom and situated himself between Tom’s legs, sealing his lips with a kiss and slipping a hand down to stroke his cock. Tom pushed his hips up as Chris massaged his thigh to work out the nervous tension there and get him to relax more.

Chris dipped his fingers into the salve and brought them to Tom’s hole. He rubbed the pad of his finger over his hole, getting him used to the sensation before he began to press in. He pressed the fingertip of one finger inside, kissing Tom as he tensed at the new sensation.

“I-I’ve never done this before,” Tom said, throwing his arms around Chris’s neck. He was scared of this. He had no idea what to expect.

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” Chris said. “I’ll take care of you.”

He worked his first finger in and out of Tom’s hole, guiding him through the motions as he opened him up enough to fit a second finger inside of him. With two, he was able to scissor them and open him up even further.

Tom felt too open and too sensitive. He felt he would spill at any moment. He reached down to tug at his cock and suddenly realized that that had been too much for him. He spilled against his stomach with a whine that made Chris chuckle.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Chris said, kissing his forehead as if he were just a child, and Tom scowled at the notion. “It’ll make you looser for me. Just relax. I’ll take care of you.”

Tom did find that his orgasm made him more pliant to Chris’s ministrations. He was a boneless heap against the mattress. Chris continued to stretch him, opening him up to his fingers and eventually his cock.

After Chris had four fingers working him open, Tom was once again squirming upon the furs. His cock was leaking against his stomach and at any moment he thought his heart would burst. When Chris deemed him ready, he pulled his fingers away and positioned his cock at Tom’s entrance. He began to slowly push in, allowing Tom to feel every thick inch slide into him. Tom squeezed around him and brought up his news to hold him around the waist. Chris thrust in fully and sat there for a moment, both breathing hard at the sensations they were not used to.

Chris flexed his arms and pulled out a few inches, holding himself up before thrusting back in. Tom’s breath left his lungs in a rush. He dug his nails into Chris’s shoulder blades and held on as Chris continued to slam into him again and again and again. The bed creaked and shifted with their movements, knocking against the walls.

Chris growled in his ear as he bent Tom in half and hammered into him. Tom whimpered and whined, earning nips at his ear and harsh pants of breath.

Chris slammed into one final time before holding still. Tom could feel the hot gush of Chris’s spend inside him, a sensation he would not soon forget. A slick hand wrapped around his cock and jerked him off to bring him to another messy climax.

Chris collapsed on top of him, his softening cock slipping out of Tom’s hole in a gush of come. Neither minded the mess. Chris dipped his head and sucked strings of bruises along his collarbone.

“Do you love me?” Tom asked.

Chris nodded and kissed the skin over his heart. “You’ve made my life interesting,” he said with a smile. “But I can’t imagine it without you.”

Tom smiled and gathered Chris up in his arms. “I love you.”

They settled onto the bed and slept in the mess of their love making. When they woke, Chris went to gather snow and melt it so they could wash their bodies and start on the pelts. It was different now. They were a part of each other now. And nothing would be able to tear them apart.

* * *

Chris woke up one day in the middle of the night. Spring was in full force with a whole of range of beautiful colours and sweet breezes. In his arms was the most beautiful boy in the world. Golden girls, rosy mouth with unblemished skin. Chris nuzzled at the curls and held him all the closer.

Tom was a spoiled and needy thing that whined when he wasn’t getting his way. But he was eager and helpful and loved unconditionally. Chris was glad that the boy had stumbled across his cabin all those months ago. Because now he could not imagine his life without him. And hopefully they could live happily ever after.


	9. The Weight of Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: After Person B’s death, Person A covers the walls of their home with sticky notes describing Person B’s characteristics. Person A had never mustered the courage to tell Person B that they loved ‘em and is now terrified of forgetting a single attribute of their beloved best friend. About 6 months after Person B’s death a tornado hits their little house. The next morning when Person A returns to the rubble all the sticky notes are blowing through the air without a word on them. Laying there, in the middle of the demolished house is Person B, unconscious but very much alive, with Person A’s words inked all over their body.

_Kind_ is the first thing Tom writes down. Chris was a kind person. He takes off the first stick note and sticks it above his desk. He writes on the second one _Optimistic._ Chris always liked looking on the bright side of things. It was a method he used to cheer up those around him. If only he could be here now and help Tom with his grief.

He has a picture of Chris sitting on his desk so he won’t forget what Chris looked like. It has been two weeks since the funeral, and Tom feels as if he’s already forgetting him—parts of him anyway. His voice. The blueness of his eyes. His scent. In his mind he can see Chris standing before him, but it’s as if each new day he’s standing further and further away from Tom.

The suddenness of Chris’s death was a shock for everyone around him. Brain aneurysm was the official report. Could happen to anyone at any time. There is no preparation for it. Still. Thirty years is much too young especially for one like Chris. He still had so much life yet to live.

Tom cannot help but feel bitter about the circumstances. He’s full of regret and self-loathing because he never got to tell Chris how much he meant to him. He wanted to say that Chris was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. That he liked the way he spoke and managed to make time for everyone special in his life. That he appreciated how much he did for him and supported him despite his self-doubt. Tom would be half the man he was today if he hadn’t met Chris. And that is the truth.

He also regretted never telling Chris that he loved him. More than a friend. More than a brother that their families and friends liked to joke about. But loved him as a spouse, as a significant other. But he was too shy and too scared about possibly losing Chris’s friendship after admitting his fondness for him. Even though his friends told him about the way Chris looked at him, Tom would blow them off.

And now Chris is gone, and Tom is left with a hole in his heart he thinks no one will ever be able to fix.

Every day he posts sticky notes around his house with Chris’s attributes written on them. It’s his coping method. He does not want to forget anything about Chris. So he writes down these attributes and sticks them on the walls, the fridge, his bathroom mirror, on the wall behind his bed. He has the picture of Chris sitting by his bed at night so he can look at it and remember the times when Chris would look at him, give him a smile, slap his hand down on Tom’s shoulder as they laughed at some stupid joke.

Sometimes in his dreams he could remember the way Chris’s hands felt on him. Chris was a very physically affectionate man. Tom didn’t mind it—preferred it actually. In his dreams, he can feel Chris’s hands on his hips, on his thighs, spreading him open so Chris can thrust in between his legs. He feels the ghosting of full lips across his neck, his cheek, and finally upon his own lips. He wakes up hard and sweating, but his erection often fades when he comes back to his senses and remembers that Chris is not here and he never knew of Tom’s feelings for him, so why would he try to make love to him?

He is often his worst enemy in these moments.

His walls are plastered in multi-coloured sticky notes. They range from Chris’s attributes to memories Tom has of him—of them together. He doesn’t feel as raw on the inside anymore. His grief has faded over the six months since he’s last heard Chris’s voice and last seen him in person. Now he just feels hollow. Colours are bleached. Smells are dull. Everything has been sucked of its essence since his death. And Tom feels as if he’ll never be the same.

One day a tornado warning is set for Tom’s town, and he decides to evacuate with many others. He takes what he feels is necessary in his life. He stays with his mother for the night as he listens to reports on the storm. It tears through his home town, taking with it livelihoods and a few lives of its own. It wipes clean the earth and creates a fresh palette to begin again. Tom wonders if his own home has been spared or if it’s been ripped up and strewn about. He finds he cares little about his home. If the notes of Chris have been taken away, he’ll write more. He’ll do it again and again and make it an exercise so he’ll never forget Chris. He’ll memorize every detail until the day he dies.

The winds are still stiff the following day after the tornado rushes through the town. It’s a clear day—rather beautiful despite the destruction. He’s heading over to his house to see if there’s anything left or anything he can salvage. He’ll need to talk to his insurance company about claims. The monotony of life.

He parks his car upon his driveway. His house is no longer standing—just a pile of timber strewn about the ground. He sees his sticky notes every. He picks one up as he walks over and finds it blank. He finds more and they are all blank. Odd.

He continues to look through the rubble and sees his empty sticky notes blowing through the wind and skipping over the ground—each as bare as the last. He sees a huddled form sitting in the middle of where his house used to be and thinks that some poor fool had broken into his house in an attempt to hide from the storm. He rushes over and drops to his knees to help the poor person, digging into his pocket to reach his phone. And then he sees who it is.

The person is Chris as hale and healthy as the last day Tom had seen him. Golden hair whipping across his face in the breeze. He feels warm and alive. He’s even breathing softly, strong chest rising and failing in an even pattern. He is clothed in white and wears no shoes. On his bare arms, Tom can see multiple words all written out in black ink. They are all Tom’s words. Every attribute he has given Chris over the past six months. _Kind. Lovely. Brave. Strong. Goofy._ Every single one of them.

There are tears in his eyes and he can barely see. Tom has never considered himself to be a religious man, but he looks up to the sky and thanks whoever is there to listen—if anyone is there at all. On one hand it is so ridiculous that he thinks he must be dreaming. But on the other he has wished for his moment. For Chris to return to him and be alive and breathe life back into Tom’s life. And now he has been given the chance to start anew.

He puts his hand on Chris’s cheek and feels the warmth there, the blood that beats through him. That’s when Chris’s eyes open. They are as blue as Tom remembers.

Chris groans and rolls onto his back. He raises a hand slowly as if he is drugged and circles his thick fingers around Tom’s narrow wrist. “Tom?” His voice is rough, but has never sounded so good to Tom’s ears.

Tom laughs in relief, tears spilling down his cheeks. “Chris. Oh my god, Chris!” He crouches over Chris and wraps his arms around him. “You’re here. You’re alive. I can’t believe it.”

Chris returns the embrace without pause. “Where am I? What’s happened?”

Tom sits up and pulls himself together. He wipes at his eyes and smiles down at Chris. “It’s been six months since I’ve last seen you. What do you remember?”

“Bright lights and warmth,” Chris mutters as he holds Tom’s hand in his. He seems reluctant to let go. “Not much I’m afraid. Has it really been six months?”

Tom nods. “It has. I’ll explain everything to you later, but there’s something I must tell you right away.”

“What is it?”

“I love you. I’ve loved you for years, and I’ve just been too afraid to admit it. And I can’t lose you again without you knowing that.”

Chris struggles to sit up with Tom’s help. He first takes in the destruction around him before tilting his face up to the sky. He closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath before smiling. He opens his eyes and looks directly at Tom. “I love you, too.”

Tom laughs with joy and collapses against Chris’s side. Together they sit in the rubble and hold each other. It has been a strange six months. There will be many questions to answer, but together they will be able to rebuild and begin their lives anew.

Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just letting you all know that I am still taking prompts. if you'd like see me write something more specific, let me know on my [tumblr](http://mjolnir-s-master.tumblr.com/).


	10. Internal Introspection of the Sexual Nature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from lookslikehiddlesworth on tumblr: Oh prompt !!! Chris is a student of the sexy teacher Hiddleston which is secretly in love and owner of his nocturnal fantasies , one day they have a strange encounter in a crowed subway* sorry my English is medium but I think you understand my idea Saludos!! im a big fan ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while. Thought I'd finish up this prompt before school sucked me back in. I have a few more planned out, so I'll definitely be back at it in a while. Hope you all enjoy.

Pro: Chris is friendly and enthusiastic about Tom’s class.

Con: Chris is his student.

Pro: Chris is at least of legal age.

Con: this could still endanger Tom’s career.

Pro: he’s _only_ Tom’s student until after his exam in December.

Con: Chris may not be interested in pursuing a friendly relation after he’s done with the course as so many students are.

Tom sighs and slumps against his desk. He loves teaching. He does. He loves teaching university students who are here with more intent and vigour to study certain topics than high school students. First year students are often timid at first—first time living away from home and on their own, stepping out into the big wide world, eyes wide, and voices quiet those first few lectures before they find their footing. Nearly all of them are the same, with a few exceptions.

Chris is an exception to the first year stereotype. First day, he came in with a big smile, came up to Tom, shook his hand, looked him in the eye, and said how excited he was for this class. Tom had never had a student greet him like that before in the past three years he’s been a university instructor. It was memorable to say the least. Too memorable.

As part of Tom’s grading for the class, the students are marked on participation: class discussions and the like. Chris, and a few others, participates regularly, earning those marks one by one. His comments are insightful, and Tom can’t help but grin every time Chris raises his hand and brings in his interpretation of the texts he had to read for class.

He also takes liberal advantage of Tom’s office hours to discuss issues within the readings and about paper topics. It’s refreshing to have a student so interested in the class and the subject matter. Chris’s reliable presence in class and his office only make Tom appreciate him more. Eventually this appreciation turns into something more when a part of Tom’s brain decides to take it to another level.

It’s also in part due to the fact that he hasn’t had a decent lay in six months. So there’s that.

It’s all a bit muddled and disorienting, but the basic image is this: Tom on his back, legs spread—Chris, a dominating weight above him, kissing down his neck and pale chest, moving lower to his heated core. His thighs tremble from the anticipation. It’s been so long— _so_ long

“Oh, that’s it, Christopher,” he says, clutching at Chris’s blond locks as he laps his tongue across his hole. “Such a good boy. Just like that. Oh, _Christopher._ ”

Chris puts his oral skills to a different use, and he has always been a quick learner. Tom is grinding his hips against Chris’s face, the heat in his lower stomach slowly growing and stretching throughout his limbs until it’s almost too much and he’s sure he’ll burst into flames—

He wakes up. With a hard on. Typical. Never gets to finish a good dream and is left even more frustrated than before. Perfect.

He takes himself in hand and finishes off quickly. _God._ He’s ashamed of himself. Thinking of his _student_ this way. Sure. Chris is beautiful with the blond hair, blue eyes, friendly smile, and bulging muscles. As Tom has learned, he’s a student on a sport’s scholarship. He is by no means a bad looking specimen. He has a nice voice to listen to full of witty and insightful commentary. Anybody would be lucky to have him as a boyfriend, and Tom idly wonders if Chris is taken. It’s not like his infatuation with Chris is going anywhere, right? Teacher. Student. Nothing is going to happen.

But he can dream, can’t he?

Things begin to change when Tom notices a shift in Chris’s usual behaviour. When he comes to meet Tom during his office hours, their usual conversations go off topic more than once from the usual discussion of class material. They go into personal interests and hobbies. Tom comes to understand what Chris wants to do with his education.

“Sports have always kept me out of trouble, you know?” he says. “Growing up, I was, to be frank, a little shit until someone took a chance with me in high school. Getting a sport’s scholarship was my best chance at getting into a university like this, so I went for it. But I’m really interested in like history and personal narratives. Like I just want to travel and listen to people talk about themselves, you know?”

Tom nods. “Yeah. It’s something, isn’t it? Learning about someone’s life story is intriguing at times. Because they are all different and all special in their own way. And they all have meaning to them. No matter how insignificant one might see them.”

“Yeah! Exactly!” Chris sits up and leans forward. Seeing him so enthusiastic about his personal interests is endearing. “And I just want to be able to share those stories with everybody. And show them that no matter what any small thing can be entertaining or we can learn something from it, or whatever you want. Story telling has always been the backbone of human civilizations. And I just really like that.”

He shrugs his broad shoulders and smiles a little—something shy and innocent in his posture. Tom can’t help but love the boy even more.”

“What about you, Tom?” he asks. “What’s your story?”

Tom smiles and huffs a little laugh. “Nothing much I’m afraid. I happen to live vicariously through other people’s stories than experience my own. I’ve never been one to go out and experience life.”

“Yeah? And why’s that?”

“Funds I suppose. I grew up in a family that was always strapped for cash, so I never got to go anywhere exciting. Even now I’m more chained to my desk and studies than anything.”

“I’m sure you have some stories. Dreams and desires.”

Speaking about dreams, Tom feels his face heat up. No. He is not going to be thinking about _that_ dream right now.

“I’ve always pictured myself to be a writer of fiction I suppose,” he says. “I had a large imagination as a kid that often got me into trouble as a child. I liked to write about pirates and cowboys. Still do, in fact. Often in Steampunk settings.” He laughs a little. He hasn’t even had the courage of telling any of his colleagues about the things he likes to write in his spare time. And here he is, spilling his soul to the one person he probably can’t have.

“That’s cool. I’d love to read some of that.”

“Oh. Well. Yeah.” Tom drifts off and looks away. When he gains the courage to look up again, he sees Chris looking at him—face open in wonder and curiosity.

“I should get going,” Chris says, breaking the spell and their eye contact. “I’ve got practice. But maybe we could continue this later? I’d love to hear more about those books of yours.”

Tom blinks. “Oh, I think that would be lovely.”

“I’ll see you later then.”

“Yes, of course. Have a good day!”

“You, too!”

They seem to have broken some type of code between them. They are no longer just teacher and student, but acquaintances who can joke and swap stories. It’s refreshing, and a burden has been lifted from Tom’s soul. He doesn’t feel like he’s violating any laws again, even if he still is in a position of power over Chris. But he won’t act on anything until Chris is finished with his class and when he actively pursues Tom in return.

After exams end and Tom buckles down into his marking, he settles into the new term with relative ease. He receives an email from Chris two weeks into the term.

_Hey, Tom_

_Just wondering if you’d like to get together sometime? During your office hours or elsewhere. Let me know. Thanks!_

_-Chris_

He can’t refuse. He sends out a quick, enthusiastic reply giving out his availability for the next week. He doesn’t have to wait long for a reply.

They decide to meet up at a local coffee shop off campus. Chris is already there and stands up to wave at Tom and welcomes him over to the table he has for them. They engage in that cross between shaking hands and hugging. It’s intimate in a way for friends to be. And Tom’s stomach flutters a bit.

“How have you been?” Tom asks as soon as he’s ordered and sat down to remove his coat.

“Good! It was great. Got to get away for a few weeks. It was nice!”

“Did you see any family?”

Chris nods. “Yeah. It was good to see them. They’re definitely one of the reasons why I’m here.”

“Hmm.” The way Chris says it sounds like he doesn’t have the best family situation. But it isn’t Tom’s place to pry even if he wants nothing more than to hold Chris, take him home, and shower him with love and affection, because Chris is the type of guy who deserves the world.

“What were you up to?”

“Oh, nothing exciting,” Tom says as a waiter brings him his drink. “Marking papers. Saw some family members. Nothing much, I’m afraid.”

“Written anything about Steampunk pirates?” Chris gives him a cheeky grin, and Tom feels himself blush.

“Maybe,” is all he says which earns a laugh from Chris. A wonderful sound to Tom’s ears.

Their visit lasts two hours and ends with the promise of meeting up again in the future. Tom agrees. They continue with coffee dates until Tom asks if Chris wants to continue this at a restaurant. He’ll pay. Chris agrees and follows him down the street as they go looking for a place to eat.

The semester continues. Tom goes to a few of Chris’s basketball games when the young man asks if he wants to attend.

“I know it might not be the most exciting thing to an academic like you,” he says with a hand on the back of his neck, rubbing at it worryingly. “But I’d love it if you came out.”

“Of course!” Tom says. “And maybe we can go out for drinks later?”

“I’d love that.”

So Tom goes to the games and sits on the bleachers, watching as Chris and his team beat the rivals and win the home game. They go out for drinks and greasy food at a pub. The late hour and the few drinks in Tom’s system gives him the courage his sober self would never have to ask Chris if he wants to spend the night.

Chris agrees.

They go home. Chris, dressed in his sweats, is tired. Tom says he can sleep in his bed if he’d like.

“But only if you sleep there as well,” he says and Tom can’t deny him.

They sleep together on Tom’s bed. All they do is sleep, and Tom didn’t expect anything more, didn’t want anything more than to see this sweet boy sleeping beside him. It gets him giddy enough to begin with, so small victories it is.

He gets up before Chris and puts on some coffee and starts making some breakfast: eggs, bacon, toast with jam, and some fresh fruit. Chris wanders out of the bedroom, squinting and stretching as Tom finishes up with the toast.

“Good morning,” Tom says, setting plates out on the island with utensils. “Did you sleep well?”

Chris nods and sits down on one of the stools as Tom hands him a mug of coffee and a glass of orange juice. “I did. Thank you. It’s so nice just to sleep and not really do anything, you know?”

Tom nods. He knows the feeling. He had a bad habit of getting into relationships that were only physical in nature. No just lying in bed or on the couch and just holding each other. Maybe that’s why he found himself without a lasting relationship beyond six months.

“I’ve got some food here for us.” Tom serves Chris, who tucks in heartily and quickly eats his first plate before going for seconds. Tom smiles and picks at his own food. It’s nice having someone else in his apartment (he’d been contemplating getting a cat a while ago, but if this works out he won’t need a cat).

After breakfast and after cleaning the kitchen with Chris’s help, Chris roams around the apartment and looks at photos on the wall and books in Tom’s collection.

“I see a suspicious amount of books on pirates,” he comments, and Tom laughs as he scrolls through some emails quickly on his laptop to see if anything urgent has come through.

“My guilty pleasure,” he says and beckons Chris over to sit on the couch with him. “So what do you have planned for today?”

Chris sits down and tucks his legs up. He looks so young sitting like that, and Tom’s heart throbs at the thought of Chris, sitting here so contently and relaxed and thinks of a future setting like this.

“Well, I do have to go back and work on some homework,” he says. “But maybe we could do this again some time.”

Tom smiles. “Of course.”

He sees Chris off and doesn’t see him again for another week. A relationship like theirs deserves to bloom slowly instead of being rushed into it. Chris begins to stay over more often for a quiet place to sleep and work. Tom has a second key made for him so he can come and go as he pleases.

“For when you feel like it,” Tom says as they eat dinner at his apartment. “Whenever you want. If you just need a place to get away or sleep for a while. I won’t mind.”

Chris blushes deeply and kisses Tom on the cheek. “This means a lot to me.”

“I know. I trust you.”

Chris’s presence begins to creep into Tom’s life slowly but surely. He leaves changes of clothes and a few of his books at Tom’s place. His sneakers and a sweater that Tom has begun to start wearing when they are at home together. They share nothing but a few kisses on the couch that turn into heated make out sessions. Tom waits for Chris to say that he’s ready to move forward. He wants to take his time with this boy.

Once exams near, they finally talk about what they’ll be doing during the summer months.

“I won’t have any classes to teach,” Tom says as he lays on the couch with Chris between his legs with his head on his chest. “I’ve been given the time to write my papers and do research.”

“Mm. Well I’ve found a job in the city for the summer. That means I won’t have to move back home.”

“That’s wonderful, Chris.”

“Yeah. And that means I’ll be needing a different place to live seeing as I didn’t sign up for the summer at my place now.” He looks up at Tom and looked pointedly at him.

“You are welcome to stay,” Tom says.

“I know.” He kisses Tom on the lips. “But I was thinking. Seeing as I’m going to move in with you, if you’d like to—you know …”

Tom grins. “Yes. I know.”

“I feel like you could show me a few things,” Chris says, sliding up along Tom’s body and planting his hands on either side of Tom’s head so he can loom over him. “Teach me how to please you.”

“And show you how to enjoy it all,” Tom says, winding his arms around Chris’s neck to drag him down to a heated kiss. “You always were one of my brightest students.”

He feels Chris smile against his lips.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom so I can, ah, _assess_ you.”

Chris laughs and so does Tom, but that’s something important. To be able to laugh during sex and just enjoy it. Things don’t have to be taken so seriously, and he wants Chris to enjoy everything they do together. So while Tom may have his kinks and his dreams, he’ll go at Chris’s pace and teach him all the ways he can enjoy himself.


	11. Simple Ambitions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’re a civilian and I’m a knight. We fall in love and are the cutesy couple ever. A enemy kingdom attacks our kingdom and in the heat of a battle you’re kidnapped (or killed) right in front of me while I’m unable to do anything about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while but I'm back baby!

As a knight, Chris’s duty was to protect the kingdom at all costs. While his hand and his sword were controlled by the king, his heart lay elsewhere. He held a prestigious position in the king’s army. He had proven his worth in battle time and time again to be given a title and a small parcel of land. He led men into battle and brought home riches to the kingdom. But while many lords said they had daughters ready for marriage, Chris would decline.

Chris did not subscribe to the traditional means of love—that of a man and woman—but dedicated himself to a different sect that fell under the jurisdiction of the god Arkoses—the patron god of love between two men or two women. His heart had been taken by a simple man many years ago when he was still a foot soldier.

Thomas was his name. He was a peasant boy, born to a family of low standing with no land, living in the part of the city that did not see much of anything. He managed to procure a job at the palace as a servant. Mainly he washed his majesty’s clothes. The pay wasn’t much, but he kept a roof over his head and worked for his landlord if he ever needed more money for food or clothing. It was a hard life, but Tom never complained, and that’s what intrigued Chris about him.

He was a ray of sunlight in the otherwise dingy neighbourhood. He had golden hair that any young lady at court would love to have. He was thin lipped beauty with aristocratic features. He knew a little about his letters and numbers but not enough so he could read. Even so, he was smart and quick witted. He had picked up a more refined manner of speech to work at the palace. He lived life simply, but Chris wanted nothing more than to spoil him like all the other court jewels.

They met at a well in the neighbourhood courtyard. Tom was carrying two buckets across his shoulders, to and fro his home to wash his clothing in and bathe himself. He seemed to be struggling during his third trip, and Chris stepped in to help.

“Let me carry those for you.” Chris took his burden and set it upon his own shoulders. Tom had always been thin as food was sometimes scarce and the work the peasants did was tiresome.

“Oh thank you,” Tom said, out of breath and stretching his arms to relieve the strain. “I’ve been carrying buckets back and forth all day for my neighbours. Apparently everyone wants to wash their clothing today.”

“Fine a day as any,” Chris said. “Sun’s out. It’s warm. Clothes will be dry in no time.”

Tom chuckled. “I suppose.”

Tom led him to his home where he set the buckets down by a fire to be heated and poured into a wood tub. “Thank you. I don’t know how I can repay you.”

“No need,” Chris said. “I’m happy to help. My name is Chris.”

“Tom.”

They shook hands, and from then on it became a ritual for them to meet at the well whenever Chris was in the city.

Thomas stole his heart one night when Chris offered to take him out of the city and into the country side where they could be alone and share a supper that Tom had prepared. So Chris had arrived on his new mount given to him at his promotion, held out a hand to Tom, and hoisted him onto the horse to sit behind him.

It was a lovely evening. It was a long journey to the spot that Chris wanted to show Tom. He had brought blankets and bedrolls for the both of them in case they fell asleep and it grew too cold. The spot overlooked into the valley to show the river and the mountains to the east. Tom, who had rarely left the city, thought it was beautiful.

“I had an aunt who was a sailor on a merchant vessel,” he said as Chris got out the blanket and spread it out for them to sit upon. “She told me stories of all the places she’d been to. It sounded so exciting, and sometimes she would come back with gifts.”

“Not much of a sea man myself,” Chris said. “I like my horses just fine.”

“Yes, and it is a beautiful mount.” Tom looked at the horse that had wandered a few feet away to nibble at the grass.

“He’s spirited, I’ll say that.”

They ate the food that Tom had prepared, a bountiful feast that had cost Tom a handful to pay for. He was happy to do it, he said.

“I can’t imagine that they feed you well when you are on patrol.”

“Not the greatest,” Chris admitted, but he worried if Tom could keep himself fed with winter approaching. Tom was a selfless man who did things out of the good of his heart rather than for the offer. But Chris would always press some money into his hand after they departed. Tom refused the first few times, even offered Chris his bed for the night, but Chris assured him that he was doing it because he wanted to, not because he wanted anything in exchange.

The night drew on, and Chris scavenged wood for a fire. He ground tied his horse and untacked it for the night. He set out the bed rolls and held Tom close for the night as they looked up at the stars and moon.

“Do you have dreams, Tom?”

“About what?”

“The future.”

“Yes. I do.”

“What do you dream about?”

Tom sighed and shuffled closer into Chris’s side. “I dream about a large bed with white sheets. I dream about a full and blooming garden. I dream about young children climbing in trees and sitting upon swings. Simple dreams I know.”

“No,” Chris said, tipping his chin up. “Realistic. Beautiful dreams. If I continue to serve the king in his army for the next two years, I’m eligible for a parcel of land. A place with a little house and land for farming.”

Tom was smiling, looking up at him hopefully. “It sounds beautiful.”

“It does. But it would still be lonely if it were only me there.” He stretched out an arm and reached into one of the saddle bags for a pouch. He pulled out the thin silver band within. “If you would have me, I will do whatever it takes to make those dreams of yours come true.” Tom’s eyes watered. “We can make a life together. You can have your garden. And your white sheets.” He giggled and hid his face in his hands. Chris pulled one away and held it with the ring poised to slide onto his finger. “Will you have me, Thomas?”

“Oh, Christopher. Of course.”

Chris slid the ring onto his finger and Tom kissed him hard. They let themselves feel each other that night. Neither was prepared to be fully intimate with each other, but they found satiation in their fists, thrusting up against each other to come to a climax. Tom was still laughing and hiding his face. Chris tried to kiss him and coax him out.

“I love you,” he said.

Tom smiled and said, “I love you, too.”

* * *

Within two years, Chris received his knighthood and promised land. Currently he and Tom were saving their funds for their future together. Whenever he was in the city, he visited Tom, greeting his neighbours for they knew their plans together and wished them well. Their love was a quietly celebrated thing among the locals. They offered their help where they could, offering them possessions for their future house that Tom kept in his house. It was really quite touching.

The first time they made love, Tom cried. Silent tears made their paths down the sides of his face as Chris pushed in. Not out of pain but of joy.

“I never thought I could love someone as much as I love you,” he said, and Chris, overcome with emotion, kissed him on the lips and started fucking him slowly, crouching over him closely to always be holding him, always be kissing him.

They fucked with urgency whenever Chris returned to the city or on the eve of his departure. They could be separated for weeks or months at a time. Chris would send letters, and Tom would reply, his writing and reading steadily improving.

During city celebrations, Chris would dress in his finest and escort Tom through the festive streets, setting a delicate crown of flowers on his curls and making him feel like a prince. Chris would look at him and take in the face of wonder he saw when the fireworks lit up the sky. His face was rosy from the wine and good food he had eaten (curtesy of the king). They danced all the night through and fell into bed as the pinks and oranges of early morning took their place in the sky. They would wake each other with kisses and spent the whole day in Tom’s tiny bed—it could barely hold the both of them. Chris would go out and fetch water so they could bathe. Upon his return he found Tom naked in the bed, the sheets kicked off with only the silver ring on his finger. He smiled. It was a welcoming sight to behold.

As he waited for the water to heat, Chris knelt at the bedside and trailed kisses up along Tom’s stomach and chest.

“Mmm.” Tom threaded his fingers through Chris’s hair. “You always know how to make me feel so well.”

“Only the best for you, my love.” He kissed him on the nose. “Once the water is heated, I’ll leave you to your washing while I forage around for something to eat.”

“Of course.” Tom stretched out of the bed, his pale body lithe and inviting. Later. Food first. Sex later.

* * *

Chris regularly visited his home to ensure that it was being properly maintained until he and Tom were ready to move in. Any day now and they could leave to begin their life here beyond the city walls. The city was a two hour ride from the homestead, but it was still a quiet place to live and start a family. Chris purchased furnishings to fill the rooms. He swept the floor boards and opened the windows to chase away the musty smell of dust and abandonment. He was sure Tom would be happy here. He had set up a room for a library and office. That way he could introduce Tom to books to fill his days with reading instead of washing clothes. He had cleared a small plot of land behind their house and lined it with logs and stones as a garden. He had yet to show Tom the place, intending to do so once everything was prepared. The bed was made with white sheets made of silk from across the ocean. It had cost him, but he knew Tom was going to love it.

 He returned to the city with a bouquet of wild flowers he had picked. It made quite the image when he surprised Tom at the market with the flowers.

Tom blushed and held the bunch close to his face. “How lovely! What’s the special occasion?”

“Simply showing my love,” Chris said, picking up Tom’s basket full of market goods. He hooked his free arm around Tom’s waist and pulled him close. He giggled and held the flowers in his arms on the walk back to his home.

They prepared dinner together and ate in companionable silence while just down the street one of Tom’s neighbours was having a wedding celebration. Family, feasting, and dancing all through the night. It made Chris feel a bit sad about it. Tom had been an only child and lost both parents while he was still young. His relatives were distant, and the one aunt who had been a merchant had settled far along the coast in another kingdom. Tom was entirely alone. As was Chris, who had been fostered with a lord when he was young and joined the army as soon as he was able. He could hardly remember his own parents.

To have a wedding celebration like the one next door would be an impossibly feat for them. Chris wished he could give everything he thought Tom deserved, but their lives were unique and lonely ones until they had met each other. And that was enough for Chris.

Tom moved to clean up the remains of their dinner. Chris stood up to answer a knock at the door. He pulled it open to reveal one of Tom’s many neighbours: an elderly man by the name of Oscar. He and his wife had an extensive family and had watched over Tom since he was a young man.

“Christopher!” Oscar said. “How are you?”

“I am well,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

“Ah, well, you see I know you are planning to move out of the city soon,” he said, dropping his voice low. “And as a gift to you and Tom and for your marriage, my wife and I decided to give you these.” He held up his open hand and on his palm rested two matching gold bands.

“Dear gods.” Chris held out his hand to hold the rings tenderly. The silver band he had given Tom was a symbol of their love, but Chris had no marriage rings for either of them. “I couldn’t possibly accept these.”

“We insist,” Oscar said, pushing Chris’s hand away. “It’s the least we can do for Tom, seeing as he was another son to us. Make him happy.”

Chris smiled. “I will, sir. Thank you.”

He surprised Tom with the rings when they were undressed and kissing each other on the small bed. He knelt between Tom’s legs and presented the rings.

“Will you have me?” Chris asked. “From now and forever?”

Tom looked at the rings and he covered his mouth with his hand, tears springing to his eyes. “From now and forever,” he said.

He laughed as Chris guided the second ring onto his hand and he in turn gave Chris his own ring. They were as good as married even without the ceremony before a priest with a crowd to throw flowers at them. They didn’t need all of that flare to display their love. They only needed their words and promises to each other.

Their lovemaking was sweet and slow. They savoured every moment of it, licking the sweat off of each other’s bodies and rocking against each other. They would sleep for moments before waking to each other with burning need to be satisfied yet again. Tom would sob every time Chris pushed into him, and Chris would swallow up every sound he made by setting his lips upon Tom’s.

In the early morning, Chris was awoken by nature’s call and stood to relieve himself. He returned to the bedside and took a moment to appreciate the look of Tom’s debased body, sporting many marks of their love making, all dark and lovely like the petals of flowers. He bent over him and nosed along his curls.

Tom shifted and moaned. “Is it morning yet?” he asked, voice husky and sore.

“Just about, my love. Sleep more. I’ll return shortly.”

Tom hummed and rolled onto his side. Chris pulled up the blankets over him and pressed a kiss to his cheek before departing.

He had means to find some food for the both of them and later surprise Tom with it in a moment. In the midst of this, that was the first time he heard cannon fire. And then came the screams.

Chris rushed out to the city streets in a loose pair of trousers and tunic. He found a soldier and asked what the matter was. The soldier, green around the edges, was frightened and wide eyed.

“There’s an army set up on the ridge, sir. Across the river. They have cannons. Every soldier has been called to arms.”

“Good lad. I’ll be there in a moment. Now go!”

He ran back into the house and found Tom awake and dressed. “What’s happening?” he asked.

Chris dressed into his thicker clothing and thick belt and boots. “Cannon fire. I’ve been called away.” He held Tom’s hands close and looked him in the eyes. “Stay here and stay safe. I’ll be back as soon as I can. If the call for evacuation comes, leave everything behind. I _will_ find you.” He kissed Tom hard and pulled away even though every fibre in his being was crying out to be with Tom. He had a duty to attend to.

He arrived at the barracks and dressed in his armour. The reports were still coming in. A small contingency of armed enemies had situated themselves on the opposite ridge of their fortified city. The cannons were long range and were wreaking havoc on the walls. It was thought that there would be another greater army coming up behind them to flank them and keep everyone within the city. Scouts had been sent out but had yet to return. Until that time they were trying to deal with the cannons. Eliminating those first would be helpful to their cause.

Evacuation plans were being thought out of. The tunnels under the city would help many escape to the docks and the paths to take them out of the city and out of the kingdom. Chris made sure he got the information to Tom, who nodded solemnly and said he understood.

“I will find you,” Chris assured him, hands on his shoulder, trying to look him in the eye. “I will always find you.”

Tom finally nodded and collapsed in his arms. “I know you will.”

Chris returned to his duties. One of the scouts had managed to return, badly wounded and terrified.

“Scores of men they have,” he said once he was able to speak and have a drink. “They outnumber us. Our weapons are no match for theirs.”

The soldiers and elders gathered in the room looked to the king. He looked stoic, but afraid. They could not win. Even if they sent word to their neighbouring allies, they would be destroyed by the time they arrived with aid. Even Chris knew there was only one option for them.

“Evacuate the city. Sound the alarm and man the boats. Everyone must leave tonight. Arm the walls with archers and protect the gates to give them more time. When the signal goes off, abandon your post.”

And Chris knew that there would be no house for him and Tom to live in one day. Their kingdom, while small but rich in resources, was doomed.

The men under his command were stationed at the front gates of the city. They were fitted with bows and arrows and told to fire at the approaching army, to protect the gates for as long as possible.

It was a long and bloody battle, and Chris’s mind could not fully commit itself fully to the task at hand. He kept straying to thoughts of Tom, wondering if he had gotten out of the city and if he would find him. He knew in his heart he would. He had that feeling, but he was concerned about his safety.

The battle took a turn for the worse when the enemy broke through the gates. At that point, Chris knew he had to leave. He had to find Tom and _get out_ before they were either killed or worse.

He abandoned his position as many others had done. The fighting was taken to the streets, and Chris did what he could to protect what few citizens hadn’t made it out of the city. He fought his way to Tom’s home and found it empty. That meant one of two things: Tom had gotten out of the city, or he was still trapped within the walls.

He fought like a demon through the streets. He rescued as many citizens as he could, but for many others he came too late.

He reached an open courtyard and found dozens of people bound together in rope and chain. Captives of war. Among them, he saw a familiar head of blond curls.

“TOM!” he shouted. Probably not the best decision considering the numerous armed guards in the vicinity, but he had to gain his attention, had to see him one last time.

And Tom turned his head, eyes wide and wet. “Chris” he seemed to mouth, but Chris couldn’t hear him over the roar of his blood and the clash of steel.

He fought. Valiantly so, but it was all for naught when he was thumped on the head by the butt of a spear. He fell to his knees and was subdued.

“A man like him would fetch a fair price,” one of the soldiers said.

“He’d be hard to handle. Hard to control.”

“Oh, I have my ways.”

A blow was struck to his head, and Chris fell into darkness.

* * *

He woke, hours later to a splitting headache and bound hands. He was lying on his side, upon the hard ground bound to a stake pounded into the ground. He could hear the voices of a few men from behind him. He looked over his shoulder and could see a few figures and their horses around a small fire. He saw no other fires in the vicinity.

Lying still, he thought over the events of that day. The kingdom had been ambushed. Tom had been taken. Scared and alone. Chris had to get back to him. But these men had taken him prisoner. Seeing as there were only a few of them, he assumed they were mercenaries. They had gotten their pay and now sought to earn more with his sale. And while he thought of this, he returned back to Tom. His Tom. Far away and yearning for him probably. He had to find him. He had to rescue him and salvage what was left of their lives.

But first, he had to escape these men.

“Check on the beast,” one of the men said. “It might be awake by now. Could use something to eat.”

Chris kept still and quiet. He had a chance here and he need to used it wisely. A figure stood over him and nudged him in the side. The voice of the figure was that of a youth, probably experiencing his first mercenary contract. “C’mon,” he said. “Get up.”

Chris sat up, holding his bound wrists loosely in his lap. The youth set a bowl of some thin and poorly made stew by his knee.

“Eat.”

He did as he commanded, and took the time to look at the youth. He was a young lad, less than twenty winters. There was a dagger at his hip. He could use this boy to his advantage, but for now he had to play the injured captive.

“Where are we?” he asked, eating some of the stew, taking comfort in the little nourishment he was provided with.     

“On our way to the East Passage. It’ll take us two days before we reach any city, so eat up what you got there. That’s probably all you’re going to get until we deal with you.”

Chris didn’t argue. The youth watched him as he continued to eat, and when he was finished, he kept his posture small and unassuming.

“Might I be allowed to relieve myself?” he asked. “I wouldn’t want to be making a mess of myself now.”

The boy shifted uneasily from foot to foot. He looked to the group of men behind Chris and sighed. “Fine. But your hands are staying bound. And don’t expect me to be helping you.” The youth bent to untie Chris from the stake. Chris saw his chance, and took it.

He lunged for the knife and removed it from the youth’s hip. He leapt up and threw his arms around the youth’s neck while holding the blade to his neck. The youth helped and cried out, alerting his comrades to the situation at hand.

“Stay back!” Chris barked. “Stay back. I want no trouble from any of you. I just want to be let go and get on with my way.” He moved the youth with him, shuffling slowly to wear the horses were ground tied. “I’ll be taking one of your horses. And some supplies. Just enough to last me a day or so. Nothing more.”

The men looked tired. While they all were standing and had hands on their sword hilts, none seemed as if they wanted to near Chris and save the youth. He was not worth the trouble to them.

“Let the boy go and take a horse. We have no quarrel with you.”

Chris took his arms away from the youth and shoved him forward to the men. He hung onto the dagger and jumped onto one of the horses and took off. When he was a safe distance away from them and completely alone, he cut his bonds and slid off the horse. He had to find his bearings and find his way back to the city. Then he could begin his search and discover where the prisoners had been carted off to.

He felt around his hands and found his ring to still be on his finger. That had not been parted from him thankfully. He brought it to his lips and kissed it. “I’ll find you, Tom. Come hell or high water, I will find you.”

* * *

The city had been ransacked and burned to the ground. Smoking shells of stone buildings were all that remained with the bodies of the dead. There was nothing left but rot and ruin. Chris collected what he could and took off on the tracks that had been left behind. They had a few days on him at least. He would find Tom. He would. He believed it.

This was a hope Chris held onto as the days turned into weeks and weeks into months. Winter began to creep in and force people into their houses for warmth. Chris had still not found Tom.

He took refuge in a tavern that had room and board. He found work there helping the landlady tend to housing issues and gathering wood for the many fires that needed tending. He departed as soon as the first spring flowers began to bud. And he continued on his journey, seeking out work to pay for food and lodging while seeking out those whole knew of the siege and knew where the prisoners had been brought and sold. All the while he carried his ring on a cord around his neck.

He never forgot his oath. He would find Tom. He would. And if he didn’t . . . well, that wasn’t an alternative he was willing to face.

* * *

Chris had gained a reputation as a hunter in the region. For food and lodging he would kill animals preying on farmland and bring down large game for the villagers. If he felt so inclined he could also aid in the imbedding of escaped criminals or missing persons. He knew how to track. He was a man of the woods and had travelled extensively. His clothing always had that weather beaten look to it. And his hands were scarred and rough from his life on the roads.

But he was a sullen and withdrawn man. The light had gone out in his eyes. When asked his story by those curious enough, he would reply he had lost much in his life.

“What did you lose?” they would ask

“Too much,” he would reply,

It garnered him sympathy, his tale of woes. He was given places to sleep, and if he stayed too long in a town, the young eligible women would come to him and see him as some sort of protector. But he would refuse.

“My heart remains to another,” he would say.

“To whom?” they would ask.

“Someone who was taken from me many years ago,” he would say, and they would not ask further. A man like him deserved to live with his grief.

* * *

Chris walked his horse along a grassy hill. It was a hot summer’s day. The sun was high in the sky and intensely sunny. He would need to find a well or stream of some sorts. He and his mount would need water soon enough.

Over the years, he had travelled further to the east than he had ever been before. This was mountain country and he was already in the foothills of the surrounding area. The breeze that day was enough to cool him momentarily, but what he needed was water.

He was close to reaching the next town before reaching the great mountain kingdom of Derith. He would stay there for quite some time, he supposed. He would search and find work and live there among the natives to this land. He planned on staying for a year. He was tired of the road and needed to stay in one place for a while and continue his life on the road later when he felt rested. He was always tired these days. A lonely life was not a life he wanted to live forever.

There was a well far outside of this small gathering farms. A lone figure struggled to heave out a heavy bucket, and Chris decided to help the poor soul. Those buckets were never easy to fill. He dropped the reins and let his horse wander a few steps away while he seized the rope from the figure and began to pull.

“Let me help you,” he said, throwing his weight into pulling the bucket up from the depths and setting it on the rim.

“Oh,” the figure said. “Thank you. I have not the strength you do for this job, I’m afraid.” The figure crouched to reach for one of the buckets that needed to be filled. When he stood again, Chris nearly fell back.

The face was familiar. Blond curls for hair. Thing, rosy lips. High cheekbones. Long fingers.

“Tom,” he whispered, too startled to say anything else.

Tom frowned. “How do you know me, sir? I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Of course he should have expected this. It had been years since they were separated. Chris had a fuller beard now and darker hair. His face had been weathered, showing more lines than before. He was much older now, and the years of separation were beginning to fully weigh upon him. His legs shook and slid down to sit against the well.

“You must be thirsty,” Tom said. “Your poor horse as well. Let me get you both some water.”

Chris sat silently as Tom watered him and his horse, and after drinking some of the cool, refreshing water, he tried again. He got up on his knees and looked Tom in the eyes. “Don’t you remember me?” He reached out for Tom’s hand. “Christopher. I am your—yours. We pledged ourselves together.” He fervently pulled his ring out from around his neck and held it up for Tom to see.

Tom held his free hand up against his mouth, and his eyes misted. “Chris,” he said, his voice small and wavering, and Chris pulled him down into his arms.

“Gods above, Tom,” he said, crushing Tom to his chest. “I’ve found you. I’ve found you.”

* * *

They sat against the well for well over an hour, reacquainting themselves with one another and crying tears of joy and grief. The years had not been kind to either of them. They had found each other, and that was all they needed.

Tom sat huddled underneath Chris’s arm, resting against his chest as the sun sunk lower and lower. “I thought I lost you,” he said. “They took everything from me, Chris. They took my rings from me. They took _you_ from me.”

“I’m here now, love. Rest now.”

But Tom shook his head. He pulled away and wiped the traces of tears off his cheeks. “I have to return. I’ve been gone for too long. My Mistress will wonder where I am.”

Tom stood, and Chris stood with him. “Your Mistress?” he asked.

Tom nodded and continued to fill his buckets before struggling to sling the yoke over his shoulders. Chris stepped in and took it from him. “Yes, my Mistress. The prisoners I was with were all eventually sold in neighbouring cities. Including myself. I’ve been here ever since. My Mistress Caroline is kind go me. She treats me more fairly than if I were ever sold to another. But I serve her now, and I must return, or she will worry.”

“Lead the way then.”

Tom took up the reins on Chris’s horse and led him down the hill and to the farm. It was one large homestead. An estate that built itself on grains and a small vineyard. Mistress Caroline had inherited the estate from her father. Two families live and worked on the farm with several seasonal workers who were here for the planting and harvesting seasons before they were off to look for more work. Tom was a domestic servant. He worked mostly in the household to serve his Mistress and her guests well. When he wasn’t in the house, he was in the stables, helping the stable boys care for the animals there.

“I have a good life, Chris,” he said. “I have opportunities to read here.” He smiled. Tom had always been proud of learning his letters and being able to read. At least that hadn’t been taken away. “A few times I have been taken to the city of Garot in the mountains. It’s good. But I have always missed you.”

“And I you.”

Tom led him past the walls of the estate. It was a charming place that had a sense of community. He directed Chris to unload the buckets of water, which a young boy looked after. They took Chris’s horse near a stable and hitched it to a ring in the wall. Chris saw that it was untacked and watered. It deserved to rest just as much as he did.

“Mistress Caroline will want to meet you,” Tom said, taking his hand and tugging him along to a large stone house. “Come along.”

Tom led him into the house through a back door into the kitchen. They were greeted by two cooks working away at a large meal.

“Thomas!” An older woman with grey, curly hair approached him. “What’s taken you so long?” She eyed Chris closely as Tom stuck by his side.

“I met someone, Edi. This is Chris. He’s from my past.” He smiled at Chris. “He’s come to stay with us for the time being. I just need to talk to Mistress Caroline and find lodgings for him.”

“She’s in her study. I suggest you go right up and talk to her.”

Tom nodded. “Of course.” He gave Chris another smile, squeezed his hand, and left the kitchen.

Chris stood there awkwardly as the woman, Edi, studied him intently.

“I suggest you wash up around back. Assuming the Mistress would want to see you about this.”

Chris nodded and left silently. He took the time to wash his arms and face from the grime and dirt of travel. He wanted to be presentable for Mistress Caroline. He would not be separated from Tom again.

There was the pressing issue of Tom belonging to Mistress Caroline. Their relationship might be hindered by this. She might even refuse Tom from seeing Chris again. But Chris would fight. He would do whatever it would take to convince her that they should remain together. He would work for her for however long she wanted him to.

Tom found him still at the basin as he tried to straighten his clothing and tied back his hair. “There you are.” He folded himself against Chris’s chest. “Mistress Caroline wants to see you. I don’t know what she wants to talk about with you. But I won’t let her separate us again, my love. We’ll be together again.”

“Of course,” Chris said, consoling Tom as best he could before he decided that it was time to meet the Mistress.

Tom led him inside and up to the second floor of the house. Mistress Caroline was a middle aged woman with long, black hair. She had papers and books spread around her desk. Possibly looking over reports of the land and of the future of the estate. She looked up at Chris, standing in the doorway with Tom behind him.

“You must be Chris,” she said. “Well, come in then and close the door.”

Chris looked back at Tom, who gave him a reassuring smile. Chris entered the office and shut the door as he was told to. He remained standing with his hands folded in front of him.

“You know Tom, do you?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am. We are . . . we are lovers. Married as one. We were separated for many years by war.

“A common cause of separation in these times. For how long?”

“Too many.”

Caroline bent over her papers and scratched something onto the paper. “I came upon Tom years ago when I visited the mountain city. He was thin, dirty, and terribly sad. Like he had lost something vital to him. I took him home with me that night. I discovered his strengths and have kept him close to this household since then. I am wary to let him go even if it’s to be with the one he loves.”

“I will not be separated from him,” Chris said, taking a step forward. “I’ve spent many years searching for him, and I will not leave here without him.”

“And that is my fear. I know your type.” Caroline put down her quill and looked up at him, sitting back in her chair and crossing her arms. “You’ve been on the road for years. You only have the clothes on your back and the horse that you rode in on. You have nothing to give to Tom if you leave here. He deserves stability and a home. He doesn’t deserve to be shut away in a small tavern inn while you work to provide for the both of you. I will not withhold him from you, Chris. But I will not let you leave with him. His place is here.”

Chris bowed his head. What Caroline was saying was correct. He had nothing to give to Tom but his love and affection, but they were not young men anymore. They needed just more than hope and dreams. They needed a house. They needed land to farm on to provide for themselves. And Chris had nothing to give him.

“I will work for him,” he said. “I will do whatever it takes to earn the right for us to be together. And to have you see that I can provide for him.”

Caroline was silent before she turned to her papers. “Are you looking for employment?”

Chris blinked. “Yes.”

“I’ve recently finalized the purchase of a small parcel of land just to the south of this estate. The house and the barn need renovations, but all in all it is of a good size. I need someone to live there and oversee the work that is to be done. You seem to be a hardworking man who could delegate tasks well. If you work for me well and I see that the house and the property are in good shape, I will allow Tom to go live with you.”

Chris breathed a sigh of relief. Here he was given a large chance at proving himself worthy to Caroline. He would be given land to provide for him and Tom in the future. They could finally achieve the house that they had always dreamed of.

“Thank you, ma’am. I don’t know what to say or do.”

“Just show me that you can take care of Tom. And I will decide everything from there.”

* * *

In the next few days, Chris was shown to the farm. It was an orchard of apple and peach trees. The apples were in season, but the peaches had yet to ripen. The buildings on the property did need major repairs, but Caroline had employed a few people to help him tend to things that needed to be cared for.

A group of seasonal workers tended to the trees while Chris familiarized himself the practices of orchard farming. At the same time he oversaw repairs to the house and barn: ensuring the roofs wouldn’t cave in, replacing broken windows, fixing the stairs and walls. At the end of the day when everyone had left, Chris would continue to work, making small repairs that he could complete himself.

On his off days, he would ride to the estate to see Tom. He had been ecstatic to know that his Mistress was allowing him to stay. And that she was giving him a chance to prove himself.

“A house for us, love,” Chris said, while he held Tom in his arms as they hid behind the stables away from prying eyes. “A house of our own.”

Tom grinned and relaxed against him. “It’ll be perfect, Chris. I just know it. Our dreams at last.”

“Yes. Our dreams. I’ll make sure I find those white bedsheets you’ve always wanted.”

Tom laughed and covered his face. “I can’t believe you still remember that.”

“Only the important parts.”

They kissed long and hard before both were called in for dinner.

It would be another two months before the repairs were finished. By then the apples had all been picked and the peach harvest had started. Caroline arrived to see the progress and was pleased with what Chris had managed to do.

“Tom has been asking after you,” she said.

“Well, I shall visit in a day or two.”

She smiled. “He always lights up when you come to visit. I was thinking of taking him with me here next time. He would love to see what you’ve done with the place. The garden looks beautiful.”

“Yes, well we need something to eat here as well. I was thinking of getting a few chickens. Perhaps some pigs.”

Caroline nodded. “Do you have a place for them.”

“The chickens, yes. Larger animals would need a bit more space, and I would need more time to make a small corral just outside of the barn.”

“Well, I am glad you are looking to the future. I will see what I can do for you.”

As promised, Tom did arrive with Caroline next time to see the farm. He was quiet and in awe, taking everything in with bright eyes. He said little as he dutifully followed his Mistress around the property, but Chris knew that he was already in love with the place.

“You’ve done well, Chris,” she said. “Very well. I think Tom will be happy here.” She patted Chris on the shoulder.

Two weeks later, Tom was moved into the house with his belongings. Chris had done what he could to make the house appear to be a home with modest furniture. He ensured that their bed was the best that he could procure with his funds. The sheets had been smoothed out and the pillows fluffed to make it seem comfortable and inviting.

Tom jumped in his arms when he first arrived. Chris was nearly toppled from the force of it.

“We’ve made it,” he said. “Our dreams, Chris. Our dreams come true.”

“Yes. Come into the house with me.”

He eagerly led Tom into the house and gave him a grand tour. The kitchen with its new cookware and large stove. The sitting room with its couches and chairs. The dining room with a polished table large enough to seat eight. And the bedroom upstairs with its large bed and white sheets.

“Chris,” Tom said quietly, leaning against the bedroom doorway as he looked at what was his home. “It’s everything I imagined our house to be. A little garden outside. The chickens.” He laughed. “The white sheets.” He walked over to the bed and smoothed his hands over the bed. “I always knew we would have our happy ending.”

“I just didn’t expect it to take so long,” Chris said.

Tom smiled at him, small and sad. They had both been through so much. Seen so much. It would take time before either was truly free to admit that they were past what they had been through. But they had each other here now. And they were ready to pick up where they had last left off.

Chris entered the room slowly. He set a hand on Tom’s hip and cupped his cheek tenderly. Tom smiled at him and nuzzled against his hand. He put his hands on Chris’s shoulders, and their lips met for a chaste kiss. Once. Twice. Thrice.

Chris fiddled with the ties on Tom’s shirt, kissing the pale skin reverently. His hands were shaking. Tom smoothed his up and down Chris’s arms to calm him.

They lay on the bed together. They stripped each other slowly for they had all the time in the world now. No more wars. No more being sent off to fight. No more late hours at the palace and coming home with raw hands. No more shushing each other as to not disturb the neighbours. This house was their own, and they would continue to make it their own for as long as they were alive. And as they marked each other’s skin, sighs of pleasure rising up to the ceiling, they could finally say that their dreams had come true.


	12. Smooth to the Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Chris's beard causes a few problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was something I wrote a while ago, so I hope you all enjoy it. I'm on a roll with this writing thing.

The call comes in when Chris is buckling up in his car. He starts it before he answers to get the heating going because it’s a cold day and he doesn’t want to sit and freeze for long.

“Hello?”

“Chris!” It’s his boyfriend, Tom, yoga instructor and all around health nut with an almost always cheery and sunny attitude.  Almost. While he blooms from the first day of spring until the first snowfall, winter is when he withers. He sleeps more, doesn’t put as much heart into his job as he usually does. Chris takes extra care in the winters to shower Tom with affection: wrapping him up in warm blankets, making sure he takes his vitamins, and paying special attention to his body in its entirety in their bed.

“Hi, Tom,” he replies. “What’s up?”

“Where are you right now? Are you hung up at the office?”

“No, I just got in the car. What do you need?”

“I was wondering if you could pick me up a specific type of lotion from that one store on Fifth. You know, the one where you go to get your protein powder.”

Chris looks at the time. It’s past five thirty and by the time he managed to get Tom his lotion and make it back home it would be almost quarter past six.

“Do you need it right this minute?” Chris _would_ like to go home and have dinner with his boyfriend and maybe a shower together afterwards. If the lotion is a big deal, he’ll make the trip.

“Well, a certain someone has been paying special attention to the inside of my thighs recently, and as it happens my skin gets _really_ dry in the winter. So: _friction_ plus _dry skin_ equals _a rash._ Do you understand what I’m saying right now?”

“Wait, are you saying you have _beard burn_ between your thighs?”

“You’re the one who won’t stop eating me out all the time!” Tom responds. “And it’s either the lotion or you have to shave. And I quite like your scruff. It makes you look handsome.”

“All right,” Chris says softly. “I’ll pick up some lotion for you. Do you know the name of it?” Tom gives it to him. “Thanks. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Okay. Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

* * *

After a harrowing journey through the flurries and rush hour traffic, Chris makes it home with Tom’s lotion and he’s welcomed inside the warm and cozy house with a soft kiss and a tight embrace.

“Welcome home, love,” Tom says. “Did you have a good day at work?”

“It was okay,” Chris says and takes off his heavy winter jacket. “I got that lotion for you, by the way.”

“Excellent! Can I have it?”

Chris toes off his shoes and wiggles his toes. “Well, I was wondering that if we took a shower together, I could help you out with this terrible . . . affliction of yours.”

Tom smiles and slings his arms around Chris’s neck. “Sounds like a plan. Now come on. Dinner’s getting cold.”

The food is hot and filling, but that’s not what occupies Chris’s thoughts. He’s staring at Tom, who’s only wearing a bathrobe (Chris’s to be exact) and sitting with his legs spread wide open. It’s too dark to _see_ anything, but Chris just knows that Tom isn’t wearing anything underneath to spare his thighs from being chafed.

“Chris?”

Chris looks up at the mention of his name. “Yeah?”

Tom smiles a rather knowing smile and shifts in his seat, drawing Chris’s gaze. “I’m sorry. Am I distracting you?” he asks.

Chris clears his throat and shakes his head, but it’s very hard not to _stare and try and catch a glimpse of something._ “Not at all. Dinner is delicious by the way.”

“Thank you. I used some cilantro this time.”

“Well, it tastes good all the same. So. How was your day today? Feeling any better?”

“Much better. I’ll be going into work tomorrow, so you won’t need to be so quiet in the morning.”

Chris nods. “Okay. What else did you do today?”

Tom looks up and smiles. “Well, I woke up today and did my morning stretches. Afterwards I had a shower and realized that the inside of my thighs was quite sore and irritated. So irritated that I couldn’t even wear _anything_ because of how sore they were. So I wore your bathrobe around the house all day—I hope you don’t mind—and had to find a new way to sit so my thighs wouldn’t touch.”

Chris can just imagine it: Tom sitting with his legs spread _wide_ apart, the bathrobe doing little in the means of providing cover.

With dinner basically over and Chris’s patience wearing thin, he seizes Tom’s wrist and pulls him from the chair and up to the bathroom.

It goes no further than rough kissing and simple rutting up against each other. The warm water cascades down upon them both. After, Chris dries the both of them, taking extra care not to rub too harshly on Tom’s skin.

They retreat to the bed with the lotion where Tom flops down on his back, bends his knees a little and spreads his legs.

“Can I trust you to behave?” Tom asks. “Because I do _not_ want this rash for any longer than necessary.”

“I promise,” Chris says, squeezing some lotion on his hands and settling himself between Tom’s thighs.  He spreads the cool lotion on the redness of Tom’s thighs. Tom jumps at the cold feeling, but settles back on the bed covers as Chris works away to soothe the irritated skin. “Better, love?”

“Mmm. Much better.”

“Good. Because there are still plenty of ways I can show you how much I love you, and I feel as if there are some parts of your person that I’ve been neglecting.” Chris leans forward and kisses Tom’s nipple before catching it between his teeth. Tom jerks beneath him.

“You utter bastard,” he breathes. “You’re going to be the end of me one day.”

Chris raises his head and kisses Tom on the lips. “Only in the sweetest way, my love.”


	13. The Weary Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom is a soldier with PTSD and Chris is a quiet librarian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little something I wrote for half-ancient/furiedheart as a sweet gift. I wrote it to fill this prompt.
> 
> Person A has PTSD from a past war, and the construction near their house forces them out everyday. They go to the library seeking silence, and continue to do so for months that follow. Person B is the librarian working in that library.
> 
> Enjoy!

The increasing volume of hammering, power tools, and heavy equipment has Tom reaching for his gun. He’s in a blind panic from the moment he wakes up. He grapples under the pillow and finds none, flinching after each loud boom that floats in through his window. He rolls onto the floor in search of his gun, crouching and cowering as he remembers that he no longer has a gun.

He is not fighting in the war. He is not a soldier any longer. He is not in danger.

He works on the techniques his therapist has taught him. Breathing in for three seconds and then out for three seconds. Adding a second each time he repeats the action. Once he has calmed his heart, he can think with a clear mind. There is construction next to his apartment building. He knew of this, but it still took him by surprise.

He flinches again where there is another loud bang. While the panic is at bay for the moment, he decides to get out of bed and pull on some clothing, sparing only enough time to grab his phone, keys, and wallet before he leaves his apartment.

There is only one place of solace for him and his scarred mind, and that’s the public library. It’s a six-block walk from his apartment and the quietest place that he doesn’t mind frequenting. Plus there’s the added bonus of checking out endless amounts of reading material to try and distract him.

He enters the library and heads off to the corner that he usually settles himself in. Here he can finally relax and breathe and revel in the silence. He didn’t stop for breakfast or coffee on the way, and will probably be forced out to grab _something_ in an hour or two, but until that moment, he is going to sit here and put his head on the table and _breathe._

Usually, after one of his moments, he sits in a strange stupor that takes a while to snap out of. All he can feel is the panic and fear that induced him when he was still on tour, and it takes a while for his brain to realize that he is not in danger and for the feelings of raw panic to receded. Whenever he comes out of this feeling, he’s often left sore and locked up from sitting in one place for so long.

After this, he stands and stretches, cracks his back, and heads off to the front desk. The same librarian is on duty. His name is Chris, blond, 36, wears glasses and has an affinity for cardigans. He lives with two cats and regularly goes to the gym as well as manages most of the reading programs the library puts on. How does Tom know all this? Well, while the library has become his refuge, he’s gotten to know the employees fairly  well.

“Hey, Tom.” Chris smiles at him when he approaches. “The new audiobook of Game of Thrones series came in today. Would you like to check it out?”

“God, no. I’m still slogging through the last one.”

Chris hands him the audiobook and headphones, set out beforehand and ready to go. Tom tries to suppress his smile.

“Enjoy!”

“Thanks.”

He goes back to his table and listens to the tape until hunger forces him to go stop at the nearest café and return with a panini and a coffee.

Chris is always so accommodating. He’s picked up on Tom’s desire for quiet and solitude and has directed people away from his quiet corner before. He likes Chris and his cardigans and his thin framed glasses. Around him, Tom can simply feel himself unwind and not _think_ about what makes him lose sleep at night.

When he’s been gone long enough for the construction crews to have left for the day, he returns the audiobook and says goodbye to Chris.

“See you next time!” he says, cheerfully with a slight wave.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Tom returns home to a cold and empty apartment. He turns on the radio to drown out the silence and provide himself with a distraction as he tries to think of what to cook. It’s not the first time he thinks of maybe getting a pet cat or dog—and maybe if Chris keeps pictures of his pets at work and if he’d like to show them . . .

One particularly bad morning leaves Tom curled up in his library spot with his feet on the chair, pressing into the corner and just wishing for it all to _stop._ There are times when he just wished he could turn off his brain, cut out the piece that makes him like this so he could move on. Psychological healing and treatment is a lengthy process, but Tom just wants it to stop.

The light touch on his shoulder makes him flinch. He looks up to see Chris bent and looking at him, worried and frowning. “Are you all right, Tom?”

Tom’s been better. He’s had off days before, but right now he’s wearing a large hooded sweater, stained cargo pants, and he can’t remember the last time he’s showered. He’s had off days before, but he hasn’t eaten in over twelve hours and he’s just so _tired._

“You know,” he says, throwing on that self-deprecating charm, “I can actually clean up _really_ well.”

“Do you need some help or . . .”

“There’s not much you can do for me, mate.”

“Anyone I can call? I can drive you somewhere if you’d like.”

Tom has the therapists to go to when he needs to. But what he doesn’t have is the intimacy of a close friendship to surround himself with when he just doesn’t want a professional’s help.

“I just want to sleep,” he admits, quietly.

“Come on. I think I can help with that.”

Chris helps him up by the shoulders. It’s then that Tom realizes it’s late. Chris is closing up, preparing to leave. Just how long was he left in a stupor like that?

Chris leads him to his car and asks, quietly, “What happened?”

“War happened,” he replies cynically. “It’s, uh, PTSD. The construction by my apartment is driving me out and I just . . . it gets bad sometimes.”

“Okay.”

He takes Tom to his apartment, and Tom vaguely wonders when they became that close. He’s shown the shower and provided with a change of clothes before being led to the guest bedroom. He collapses on the soft sheets and is surprised with how easy it was to fall asleep.

When he wakes up the next morning, he’s surprised to see he’s slept for a straight nine hours, a first in a long time. And he’s not scrabbling for a gun he no longer has, and it’s nice to not wake up in a total panic for once.

Chris is making breakfast in the kitchen when he blearily walks up. “Good morning.”

“Mm.”

“I’ve got coffee and juice on the counter. Food’s almost ready.”

“Mm.”

Tom sits down at the island and makes quick work of getting his coffee just the way he wants. Chris sets a full plate down in front of him, and Tom barely gets out a thankyou before he hunkers down and eats everything in sight.

“Thanks for letting me stay the night. And feeding me. And giving me something to wear.”

“It’s no problem, really,” Chris says. His hair is mused from sleep, and Tom finds it incredibly endearing. “If you ever need a place to sleep or just to get away and that _isn’t_ the library.”

Tom laughs. “I thought you liked it when I visited you.”

“I do. I just thought you’d like a change of scenery.”  He’s cute when he blushes as well.

“I certainly wouldn’t mind.”

Chris reaches out and squeezes his hand, something quick, something familiar, but only lingers enough to speak of a close friendship. Plenty of room to grow.

Chris doesn’t go to work that day, and promises to help Tom collect a few of his things from his apartment for an extended stay at Chris’s. At least until the construction stops and they’ll figure out where to go from here.

But wherever they go, Tom is sure he’ll be just a bit better off than before, even if he has to deal with two needy cats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like to see me write something specific, send me a a prompt on [tumblr](http://mjolnir-s-master.tumblr.com/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Character Study in Post-It Notes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7097827) by [cuphugaddict](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuphugaddict/pseuds/cuphugaddict)




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